II    /      V 

SWORDS 
DRAWN 


J.M.  EDGAR 
HART 


The  Cornbill  Company 


SWORDS  DRAWN 


SWORDS  DRAWN 

A  Romantic  Play 

IN  FOUR  ACTS 

BY 
J.  M.  EDGAR  HART 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
THE    CORNHILL    COMPANY 

Copyright  by  J.  Af.  Edgar  Hart,  as  dramatic  composition. 

"Sivords  Drawn."    All  rights  reserved,  including  that 

of  translation  into  foreign  languages 


DEDICATED  TO 

THE  MASTER  MIND,  MR.  DAVID  BELASCO 

WHOSE  DRAMATIC  PUPIL  I  EVER  HOPE 
TO  REMAIN 


2083127 


*&»    t 
<U2CT"  6»rK^s 


ACT  I 


SWORDS  DRAWN 


ACT  I 

Monday,  December  3rd,  1688. 

Before  Curtain  Rise,  MADAME  SANTONI  is  heard 
singing  in  the  drawing-room  off  Right  to  the  accompaniment  of 
a  harpsichord,  cello,  a  harp,  flute  and  violin,  the  following 
couplet  of  a  song.  (Music  to  the  words  has  been  written  in 
order  to  secure  the  desired  effect.} 

SIGNORA  SANTONI  (singing): 

"Lover  of  flowers,  of  bosk  and  glade, 
Wandering  through  a  dusky  vale; 
Where  the  trees  thickest  o'er-hung  the  brook, 
Just  as  the  day  waned  into  night 
And  shadows  crept  apace  — 
There  sought  I  to  linger,  muse  and  dream  — 
Lo!   from  the  mist  that  steeped  the  mountain  side, 
Rose  an  angel,  sylph-like  form, 
As  on  church  naves  abide. 
And  as  mortals  do  saints  revere: 
Adore  and  dare  not  speak  — 
So  lisp'd  I  the  pray'r  — 
That  spirits  'lone  hear. 

Madame  Santoni  sustains  the  high  last  note  of  the  coup 
let,  then  follows  the  applause  of  the  guests,  and  as  the 
musicians  play  the  prelude  of  the  refrain,  the  CURTAIN 
slowly  rises. 


4  SWORDS   DRAWN 

Throughout  the  act,  except  when  there  is  singing  or  some 
special  musical  number,  there  should  be  heard  faintly  a 
constant  hum  of  voices,  as  of  a  room  full  of  guests. 

DISCOVERED:  SIR  ANTHONY  LOVELACE  and  SIB 
RICHARD  DIGWIG.  Sir  Anthony  is  a  sentimentalist;  he  is 
thin  and  has  the  countenance  of  a  poet.  He  is  about  fifty 
years  of  age.  Sir  Richard  is  the  very  opposite;  short,  portly 
and  his  face  is  ruddy  and  fat.  Sir  Anthony  is  seated  Right 
of  the  chess  table  Center,  his  elbow  on  the  table,  his 
chin  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  his  eyes  raised  to  the  ceiling, 
dreamily  listening  to  the  song,  —  oblivious  of  the  game  of 
chess  before  him.  Sir  Richard  stands  across  the  room 
from  him,  Left  2,  his  back  to  the  fire-place,  his  feet  wide 
spread,  his  hands  clasped  behind,  observing  his  senti 
mental  friend  with  a  broad  smile. 
As  the  curtain  rises,  Signora  Santoni  sings  the  refrain: 

"I  dream  I  press  thee  —  goddess  sweet! 
Thou  yielding  in  my  arms, 
Thy  heart  and  halting  lips 
Meshed  'tween  a  kiss  and  kiss  — 

Sir  Anthony  closes  his  eyes  in  rapturous  ecstacy  and 
sighs  softly:    the  smile  expands  on  Sir  Richard's  face. 
He  chuckles  softly  to  himself. 
Uninterruptedly,  the  song  continues: 

"  I  dream  thou  lovest  me  — 
I  dream  —  yet  am  awake ! 
I  dream  of  love  — 
I  want  your  love.  .  .  . 
To  dream  for  aye  and  e'er.  .  .  . 
To  dream  —  to  dream  — 

The  voice  of  the  singer  ends,  as  it  were,  in  a  sigh  —  the 
soft  strains  of  the  instruments  continue  for  a  bar  or  two 


SWORDS   DRAWN  5 

longer;  Sir  Anthony,  his  eyes  still  closed,  retains  the  same 
attitude.  Policies  loud  applause  of  the  guests. 
SIR  RICHARD  (immediately  after  the  guests  applaud,  with 
heel  of  his  shoe  kicking  the  fire-tongs,  causing  a  rattling 
sound  that  startles  Sir  Anthony  out  of  his  reverie) :  Pray 
come  to  earth,  Sir  Dreamer!  and  play! 

SIR  ANTHONY  (sighing  with  regret  as  he  lowers  his  head  to 
study  the  game) :  Ah,  a  beautiful  song,  Sir  Richard  — 
stirring  m'  soul  till  I  felt  five-and-twenty  again. 

SIR  RICHARD:  Egad!  (With  a  chuckle)  Your  memory 
should  be  better  informed. 

SIR  ANTHONY  (studying  the  game,  shaking  his  head  dole 
fully)  :  Ah,  sadly  so  —  sadly  so  — (He  moves  a  pawn.) 
(Music  of  the  instruments  off  Right.) 

SIR  RICHARD  (approaching  the  table  and  replacing  the 
pawn) :  Cannot  you  tell  black  from  white,  Sir  An 
thony? 

SIR  ANTHONY  (with  profuse  apology) :  In  truth  —  in 
truth!  (He  studies  the  game  an  instant,  then  suddenly 
looking  up,  with  a  suave  expression)  I  fear  this  music 
has  distracted  me  —  What  say  you  to  postponing  the 
game  till  later? 

SIR  RICHARD  :  'T  were  better  so  if  you  are  still  under  the 
spell.  (Shoves  chair  up  to  table  and  circling  about  chess 
table,  he  fills  himself  a  goblet  of  wine.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (rising  and  also  filling  himself  a  goblet  of 
wine):  Ah,  a  beautiful  song,  Sir  Richard,  is  "Love's 
Mastery" 

SIR  RICHARD:  Ha!  (Exclamation  of  laughter.)  A  man  at 
your  age  should  have  done  with  love.  (Grimaces  the 
word)  Bah!  (Drinks.) 

SIR  ANTHONY:  Not  till  I  have  done  with  life! 

(Raising  his  goblet  and  becoming  declamatory  —  drawling 
sadly  upon  the  interjection  "Oh")  I 


6  SWORDS   DRAWN 

"Oh  —  let  me  live  and  let  me  love! 
And  with  the  joys  of  living,  blend  - 
The  joys  of  loving  to  the  end!" 

SIR  RICHARD  (laughing}:  Egad!  — You  recite  poetry  as 
some  sing  at  a  funeral! 

(He  raises  his  goblet  to  him) :  Here's  to  your  own  end 
then;  so  you  may  grow  wings  —  (flops  his  arms)  and 
flop  everlastingly  with  the  angels  to  your  soul's  con 
tent.  (He  chuckles  and  drinks.) 

SIR  ANTHONY:  Not  so  fast  —  merely  five-and-fifty,  and 
my  friends  assure  me  I  am  still  well  preserved. 

SIR  RICHARD:  Aye!   as  a  herring:  dry,  short  and  lean  - 

SIR  ANTHONY  (with  conciliatory  smile):  A  disrespectful 
simile  that  my  friends  would  resent. 

SIR  RICHARD:  Not  if  my  table  supplied  them  with  better 
wine. 

SIR  ANTHONY:  Sir  Richard  is  welcome  to  my  entire  cellar, 
if  it  will  make  him  as  kind. 

SIR  RICHARD:  Ha!  If  I  partook  of  your  cellar,  I  should 
then  be  inebriated  and,  like  the  rest,  not  be  accountable 
for  what  I  said. 

SIR  ANTHONY:   'Twere  better  so  than  being  sober  and  so 

unkind  — 

SIR  RICHARD:  'Twere  better  so  to  make  you  think  your 
self  otherwise  than  ye  are! 

(He  takes  his  arm  and  tries  to  make  his  meaning  clear) 
Ye  see,  Sir  Anthony,  the  devil  of  sentiment  lurks  in 
every  bottle,  and  then  man  is  apt  to  prove  as  consum 
mate  a  liar  as  the  spirit  he  takes  in. 
(Enter  LADY  RUSSMORE  (ALICE)  from  Left  3  E.) 
(Lady  Russmore  (Alice)   is   the  embodiment  of  perfect, 
gentle,  lovable  womanhood.    Sometimes,  even  when  happi- 
esi  _  the  tears  spring  to  her  eyes.    The  heart  predominates 


SWORDS  DRAWN  7 

in  her.  She  is  about  twenty-five  years  of  age.  At  the  on 
set  of  the  play  she  is  in  a  buoyant,  happy  frame  of  mind  — 
until  apprized  of  her  brother's  return.  (The  moment  she 
enters  Left  3  E,  Sir  Anthony's  eyes  fall  upon  her.  He 
abruptly  leaves  his  friend's  arm  and  gallantly  goes  to 
her.) 

SIR  ANTHONY:  Ah  —  Lady  Russmore! 

(Lady  Russmore  extends  him  her  left  hand  in  greeting.) 

LADY  RUSSMORE  :  Sir    Anthony  —  (extending    her    ether 
hand  to  Sir  Richard)  and  Sir  Richard  — 

SIR  ANTHONY  (bending  low  over  her  hand) :  Your  ladyship — 

SIR  RICHARD  (as  he  takes  her  other  hand):  We  rejoice  at 
seeing  your  ladyship. 

SIR  ANTHONY  (taking  the  words  from  his  friend's  lips): 
—  and  in  such  excellent  spirits  and  health. 

ALICE  (with  smiling  acknowledgment):    But  how  fares  it 
with  you,  gentlemen? 

SIR  ANTHONY  :  Oh,  excellently  with  me  —  but  ill  with 
Sir  Richard. 

SIR  RICHARD  :  Egad !   the  ill  is  in  his  throat  —  not  in  my 
anatomy.  —  I'm  in  the  pink  of  health ! 

ALICE  :  In  truth  —  I  notice  you  have  a  good  color. 

SIR  ANTHONY  (laughing  at  the  dig  which  his  friend  got) : 
Oo-oo!He!  —  He!- 

LADY  RUSSMORE:    I  am  in  search    of    Miss  Scarsdale. 
Have  either  of  you  seen  her? 

SIR  RICHARD  :  I  much  regret  — 

SIR  ANTHONY  (again  taking  the  words  away  from  him) : 
Er  —  I  perceived  her  —  strolling  out  into  the  park  — 
(points  U.  L.  C.  E.)  more  than  half  an  hour  ago. 

SIR  RICHARD  :  Ha !  —  Depend  upon  Sir  Anthony  "Love 
lace  never  failing  to  see  a  pretty  girl  pass. 

ALICE:  'Tis   a  sure  proof  his  eyes  are  still  young,  Sir 
Richard. 


8  SWORDS   DRAWN 

SIR  ANTHONY  (laughing  again  at  this  fresh  sally) :  Oo-oo ! 

He!  — He!- 
LADY  RUSSMORE:  But  I  am  digressing.   Lord  Russmore 

has  been  discussing  politics  ever  since  we  arrived  — 

Shall  I  claim  your  escort  to  find  Miss  Scarsdale  or  her 

mother? 

SIR  ANTHONY     "1 

c  (Simultaneously) 
SIR  RICHARD       ' 


Honored : 

(From  their  respective  places  both  had  turned  half  way 
about  and  now  stood  on  either  side  of  her,  each  one  offer 
ing  his  arm  to  her  —  but  Sir  A.,  holding  his  out  curved 
more  conspicuously  than  Sir  R.,  in  the  attitude  of  comic 
French  gallantry.) 

ALICE  (laughing) :  Really,  gentlemen  —  your  spontaneity 
gives  me  much  embarrassment.  Think  you  not  'twere 
very  comic  to  appear  thus  doubly  attended? 

SIR  ANTHONY  (maintaining  the  same  attitude  of  body): 
I  pray  Lady  Russmore  notice  that  my  arm  is  the  proper 
one  to  accept  —  being  undeniably  the  right  one. 

SIR  RICHARD:  I'  faith  —  Lady  Russmore  —  if  the  justice 
of  his  argument  is  in  that  arm:  methinks  'tis  too 
crooked  to  be  trusted.  (Alludes  to  the  manner  in  which 
Sir  Anthony  holds  out  his  right  arm,  loop-fashion  to  her.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (drawing  erect) :  'T  is  much  less  bent  upon 
mischief  than  your  too  ready  speech! 

ALICE:  Oh,  pray  let  me  not  remain  and  cause  dissension 
between  you.  (Turning  at  exit  Right  3)  Adieu!  — 

(Exit  Alice  Right  3  E.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (shifting  his  eyes  from  Sir  Richard  who  is 
laughing  at  him  —  starting  after  her) :    Lady  Russmore ! 
- 1  protest  of  this  little  fat  man ! 

(Exit  Right  3  E.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  9 

SIR  RICHARD  (starting  after  his  friend) :  What  now?  You 
thin-edge-keg-waddle-whoop?  (Exit  Right  3  E.} 

(A  slight  pause,  during  which  the  music  off  Right  is  heard. 
Suddenly  the  door  U.  L.  C.  slowly  opens.  This  door 
opens  directly  on  the  park;  a  path  and  shrubberies  beyond 
its  threshold.  JOSEPHINE  SCARSDALE  cautiously  enters; 
following  her  to  the  threshold,  appears  LUCY.  Lucy, 
Miss  Scarsdale's  tiring  maid,  stops  barely  inside  the  door, 
awaiting  her  mistress'  instructions.  Josephine  Scarsdale 
is  about  nineteen  or  twenty  years  of  age,  fair,  intellectual 
looking,  sympathetic  and  pretty.  Lucy,  her  maid,  is 
about  sixteen  or  seventeen.  She  is  very  frail;  one  of  those 
natures  whose  devotion  and  desire  to  serve  seem  to  be 
a  cause  for  lack  of  physical  strength.} 
(When  Josephine  has  assured  herself  that  the  room  is  de 
serted,  after  glancing  at  the  clock,  right  of  the  park  door, 
she  steps  again  toward  Lucy.} 

JOSEPHINE:  Now  return  to  your  post  quickly.  You  re 
member  his  description?  When  he  conies,  give  him  the 
pass  word  "Elves  do  I  seek."  —He  will  trust  you. 
Show  him  the  way  —  but  mind :  He  must  not  come  in 
until  I  am  alone  in  this  room  —  must  remain  in  hiding 
until  I,  myself,  open  to  him  this  door. 

LUCY:  Yes,  miss.   (She  turns  to  go.) 

JOSEPHINE  :  And  —  er,  Lucy.   Afterwards  (Xing  to  Left  3 
she  drops  the  portiere,  masking    the  door  completely} 
guard  this  door :  Maman  will  look  after  the  other  — 
(she  points  to  Right  3}  the  moment  she  sees  me  drop 
the  curtain. 

LUCY:  Yes,  Miss. 

(Exit  Lucy  into  the  park,  closing  the  door.} 
(Josephine  steps  to  the  entrance  of  the  conservatory  U.  C. 
and  drops  the  two  curtains,  masking  the  entrance  complete 
ly.  Then  she  comes  down  to  the  settee  Right  C.,  and,  after 


10  SWORDS   DRAWN 

depositing  the  silk  scarf  around  her  shoulders  upon  the 
back  of  it,  she  sits.) 

JOSEPHINE  (glancing  at  the  clock  again  before  sitting  down) : 
Ten  o'clock :  In  half  an  hour  now !  —  My  very  heart 
misgives  me.  (Taking  a  folded  letter  from  the  bosom  of 
her  dress,  she  starts  to  read.) 

"Dear  Josephine:  —  Convinced  that  I  can  ask  any 
service  from  you,  I  shall  present  myself  at  your  house 
this  evening.  I  fully  realize  that  were  anyone  among 
your  guests  to  discover  my  presence,  immediate 
arrest  would  follow.  But  if  you  and  Lady  Scarsdale 
will  help  me,  I  am  confident  I  can  deceive  them  all. 
Note  brief  instructions  and  let  Peter  bring  me  your 
answer." 

(Her  eyes  wander  down  the  page  and  over  on  the  other 
side,  murmuring  rapidly  the  contents  to  herself.  Lastly, 
she  raises  her  voice  sufficiently  to  be  understood,  saying) : 
"Expect  me  promptly  at  ten-thirty  o'clock." 
(She  begins  to  fold  the  letter.)  I  wonder  if  Alice  has  yet 
arrived? 

(As  she  is  on  the  point  of  rising  to  go  and  ascertain,  enters 
Alice  Right  3  E.) 

Oh,  Alice.  — •  (She  goes  to  her  and  they  kiss  each  other.) 
I  was  on  the  point  of  looking  for  you. 

ALICE  (Lady  Russmore) :  And  I  have  been  searching  the 
house  for  you,  everywhere,  dear. 

JOSEPHINE  (coming  down  to  the  settee  with  her) :  Have  you 
been  here  long? 

ALICE:  Nearly  half  an  hour  I  should  judge. 

JOSEPHINE:  I'm  sorry  —  I  had  something  very  urgent  to 
attend  to  —  but  you've  seen  maman  and  of  course 
she's  told  you. 

ALICE:  Lady  Scarsdale  said  that  you  had  a  surprise  in 
store  for  me. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  11 

JOSEPHINE  (Rising  and  stepping  up  stage,  dropping  the 
heavy  curtain  before  the  window's  recess  U.  R.):  One 
moment  —  and  we  will  speak  of  that.  (Coming  back, 
while  Alice  goes  toward  the  chess  table  and  idly  examines 
the  game.)  Is  your  husband  here? 

ALICE:  I  left  him  in  the  library  arguing  politics  with  His 
Grace  the  Bishop  Orsini  —  I  have  grown  so  weary  of 
hearing  politics  discussed  that  I  have  positively  come 
to  yearn  for  a  bal-masque  of  some  sort  —  if  only  to 
forget  for  a  single  hour  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
war  going  on  at  present. 

JOSEPHINE  (seated  on  settee  Right  C.) :  Then  you've  — 
you've  likewise  ceased  to  concern  yourself  with  your 
brother's  possible  return  to  England? 

ALICE:  Oh,  altogether!  (She  returns  to  the  settee  slowly). 
And  I  meant  to  tell  you :  I  received  a  letter  from  him 
this  week  —  brought  over  from  Holland :  saying  that 
to  his  utter  disappointment  William  of  Orange  had 
detailed  him,  almost  at  the  last  hour,  on  a  mission  to 
France  —  thus  preventing  his  coming  over  to  England 
with  the  army  of  invasion. 

JOSEPHINE  (puzzled) :  You  received  such  a  letter? 

ALICE:  Why,  yes;  why  do  you  doubt  it?  (Mistaking  the 
look  on  Josephine's  /ace  for  one  of  disappointment) 
Because  it  disappoints  you?  Ah,  to  me  —  'twas  in 
finite  relief.  I  should  have  been  in  prey  to  constant 
anxiety.  Remember  that  my  husband  is  devoted  to 
the  King;  Milton  serves  William  of  Orange.  As  such 
they  are  bitter  foes.  Even  Lord  Russmore  remarked 
upon  my  sudden  change  of  spirits  that  day.  —  You 
know  he  has  never  met  Milton  and  knows  little  about 
his  life  abroad;  somehow,  to  safeguard  him,  lest  he 
might  return,  I've  always  kept  Lord  Russmore  in  ig 
norance  of  everything  concerning  him. 


12  SWORDS   DRAWN 

JOSEPHINE  (anxiously  reflecting) :  But,  still,  in  the  event 
of  his  having  risked  to  come  back  —  what  should  have 
been  your  own  attitude  toward  him? 

ALICE  :  He  is  my  brother  —  this  means  part  of  self.  —  I 
hope  that  my  husband  should  not  have  judged  me  too 
harshly  then  for  protecting  a  life  as  dear  to  me  as  his 
own.  (Josephine  rises  and  Xes  Left,  ponderingly.) 

JOSEPHINE  :  I  see  — 

ALICE:  Do  you  knowr  that  it  nearly  broke  my  heart,  seven 
years  ago,  when  we  pjarted  in  Holland?  I  was  leaving 
him  alone  in  exile.  ...  to  return  here  and  wed  Lord 
Russmore.  To  my  brother  I  owed  years  of  devotion,  of 
care,  of  protection;  ever  since  we  had  gone  forth  into 
exile;  to  Lord  Russmore  I  owed  my  recall  from  ban 
ishment:  During  our  short  acquaintance  in  Paris  I  had 
learned  to  love  him.  I  hesitated  between  two  loves. 
Each  laying  claim  to  me.  Brooding  over  this,  I  grew  ill. 
One  day  a  letter  came  from  Hugo;  Milton  learned  my 
secret.  He  insisted  I  should  accept  Lord  Russmore; 
and  if  there  was  an-y-thing  which  could  possible  have 
endeared  him  still  more  to  me  —  it  was  the  very  un 
selfishness  which  he  displayed  then! 
(Suddenly,  impulsively  dispelling  the  mood;  becoming 
cheerful  again  and  rising)  But  there,  dear,  we  shall  be 
talking  politics  next,  again!  Everlasting  conflicts  and 
politics !  Let  us  discuss  something  else  —  or  seek  fresh 
diversion  in  the  drawing  room  — - 

JOSEPHINE  (detaining    her   hands):  One    moment,    Alice. 
You  forget  maman  said  I  had  something  to  tell  you  — 
(She  goes  and  resumes  her  seat.) 
(MUSIC  STOPS  in  the  drawing  room  off  Right.) 
ALICE:  Oh,  yes;  the  surprise!    (She  goes  to  the  settee  and 
sits.)    How  unlike  a   woman   to  forget.    (She  laughs, 
then  eagerly)  What  is  it? 


SWORDS   DRAWN  13 

JOSEPHINE  (with  seriousness,  looking  at  her  fixedly) :  Why 
—  I  don't  know  now  as  I  should  tell  you  — 
(Alice  draws  back  with  an  "Oh!"  of  playful  disappoint 
ment}  —  only  —  only  that  the  person  who  sent  me 
this,  (touches  letter  hid  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress)  abso 
lutely  insists  —  and  because  I  trust  him  — 

ALICE  (arching  her  brows,  smiling) :  Oh !  there's  a  him  in 
the  surprise. 

JOSEPHINE  (reflecting  —  ceasing  to  look  at  her) :  Suppose 
that  the  letter  which  came  from  Holland  this  week 
should  purposely  have  been  written  to  mislead  you 
and  Lord  Russmore,  as  the  case  might  be  —  into  be 
lieving  Milton  still  in  foreign  land? 

ALICE  (a  look  of  apprehension  coming  to  her  face):  You 
mean  —  ? 

JOSEPHINE  :  That  your  brother  is  very  shrewd  and  very 
cautious  — 

(Alice  is  about  to  speak  —  Josephine  pursues.) 
Had  I  known  that  you  dreaded  his  return  to  such  an  ex 
tent,  I  should  not  have  invited  you  here  tonight;  but 
now,  since  you  are  here  —  I've  enough  to  frighten  me 
as  't  is  —  you  must  be  put  on  your  guard  — 

ALICE  (rising) :  Then  he  —  ? 

JOSEPHINE  (likewise  rising) :  Yes !  —  Milton  is  in  England, 
and  he  is  coming  here  tonight!  .  .  . 

ALICE  (realizing  her  worst  fears,  carrying  her  hands  up  to 
her  temples,  as  if  stunned,  she  murmurs  with  despair): 
Oh  — my  God!  .  .  . 

JOSEPHINE  (herself  deeply  affected}:  Oh — Alice — don't!  — 
(Alice,  right  of  the  chess  table,  sinks  into  a  chair,  weeping 
quietly.) 
(After  a  pause.) 

I  did  not  wish  to  consent  to  his  coming  either  —  But 
maman,  who  hates  the  King  —  overruled  all  my  fears. 
Now  I'm  even  more  afraid  than  you  are. 


14  SWORDS   DRAWN 

ALICE:  Oh,  but  why  did  you  not  send  for  me  and  consult 
me  first?  — 

JOSEPHINE  :  I  know  —  I  should  have  done  that  —  But 
I  didn't  think  —  He's  coming  here  incognito  to  seize 
information  regarding  the  movements  of  the  King's 
troops  tomorrow; 

(Alice  raises  her  head  and  glares  at  Josephine.) 
This  means  Milton  should  soon  be  free  again  —  and 
also  wanting  to  see  him  —  I  easily  yielded  — 

ALICE  (rising) :  To  seize  information.  .  .  .  And  here  you 
let  him  come  —  here !  surrounded  by  enemies !  under 
the  very  eyes  of  my  husband,  —  where  I  must  watch 
over  myself  — 

JOSEPHINE:  You  mean  that  I  should  have  refused? 

ALICE  (vehement}:  By  all  available  means,  yes!  Oh,  but 
it  is  not  too  late!  No,  Josephine,  you  must  disobey 
your  mother !  .  .  .  you  cannot  —  you  must  not  receive 
him  here  this  night!  On  no  account!  Why,  it  is,  as  it 
were,  as  if  I  pleaded  for  his  life  from  you :  It  could  have 
but  one  result?  —  here  in  a  house  full  of  Loyalists! 
Supposing  he  were  detected;  could  you  bear  to  think 
yourself  in  a  measure  responsible?  No!  —  It  must 
not  be !  If  you  truly  love  him,  you  cannot  permit  this 
mad  venture  of  his !  —  It  is  preposterous !  .  .  . 

JOSEPHINE  (deeply  impressed  —  her  head  averted) :  You  are 
right.  ...  I  felt  it  was  perhaps  wrong.  .  . .  (Facing  Alice, 
with  resolve)  I  will  disobey  maman ! 

ALICE:  Oh,  thank  you!   thank  you! 

JOSEPHINE  :  He  will  come  at  half  past  ten :  I  was  to  admit 
him  through  that  door  —  (points  to  U.  L.  C.  E.) 

ALICE:  We  must  then  arrange  a  way  to  anticipate  his 
coming. 

JOSEPHINE:  Lucy  is  out  at  the  gate,  waiting  for  him  to 
come.  John  can  take  a  note  out  to  her.  She'll  deliver 
it.  (She  goes  to  desk  cabinet  Right  2.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  15 

ALICE:  Exactly!  and,  tomorrow,  I'll  send  a  courier  to  the 
Prince  begging  him  curb  his  prowess,  or  else  send  him 
back  to  Holland  — 
JOSEPHINE:  Back  to  Holland? 

ALICE  (coming  to  her  and  placing  her  arms  about  her) :  Ah, 
dearie  —  Some  day  you  will  thank  me  for  having  pre 
served  his  life  for  you  —  I  beseech  you,  dear,  write  at 
once. 

JOSEPHINE:  Very  well — (sits).  Tell  John  to  come  to 
me. 

ALICE:  (she  first  kisses  her,  and  then,  starting  off  toward 
Left  3) :  Immediately.  .  .  . 

(She  exits  rapidly,  drying  her  eyes  and  endeavoring  to 
compose  herself,  lest  she  encounter  anyone.) 

JOSEPHINE  (after  a  moment  of  hesitation  —  sighing,  also 
composing  herself,  begins  to  write):  "At  the  —  very 
last  —  moment  —  I  find  it  —  necessary  -  —  to  — 
(Enter  ROBERT  COURTNAY  Right  3  E.) 
(Robert  Courtnay  is  a  man  of  about  thirty  years  of  age. 
He  is  dressed  in  the  newest  and  richest  fashion,  withal  he 
has  the  deportment,  carriage  and  manner  of  a  court  fop. 
In  build  he  is  tall  and  lanky.  His  hair  is  red,  and  his 
cold,  blue  eyes  are  fringed  with  the  lightest-colored  lashes, 
giving  them  the  appearance  of  possessing  none  —  to  his 
eyes  of  being  beady,  and  to  his  eyelids  of  being  swollen.) 

ROBERT  (seeing  Josephine  the  instant  he  enters,  merely 
glancing  at  her  as  he  passes  and  proceeds  down) :  Ah  — 
discovered  at  last,  m'  fair  cousin.  (He  proceeds  across 
the  room,  playing  with  the  lace  of  his  sleeve.) 

JOSEPHINE  (for  an  instant  anxious  about  the  letter  which 
she  is  writing  —  not  looking  at  him) :  You  wish  to  speak 
to  me? 

ROBERT:  Yes — (Same  bantering,  smiling  manner  through 
out.  As  he  reaches  the  arm-chair  Left  C.,  sitting  on  the 


16  SWORDS   DRAWN 

arm,  facing  her.}  What  think  you  —  er  .  .  .  of  my 
friend?  (The  smile  is  inviting.} 

JOSEPHINE  (resuming  her  message} :  Whom  —  Lord  Mid- 
dleton? 

ROBERT:  Yes. 

JOSEPHINE  :  Why  —  a  very  pleasant  sort  of  person  —  it 
seems. 

ROBERT:  Seems,  eh?  —  only  seems?  (The  smile  is  ever 
more  so  inviting.) 

JOSEPHINE  (without  pausing  in  her  writing) :  What  would 
you  have  me  say?  —  Gush  at  first  acquaintance? 

ROBERT  (rising) :  Heaven  forbid ! 

(Advances  leisurely  across  stage.)  I  feared  lest  you 
found  him  too  pleasant.  (A  few  steps  below  her,  play 
fully  folding  his  arms.)  Mark!  I  will  let  no  man  rob 
me  of  thee!  (His  playfulness  has  the  tone  of  assurance.) 

JOSEPHINE  (looking  at  him):  Forsooth!  —  My  cousin 
seems  to  have  acquired  a  very  indisputable  claim. 

ROBERT  (same  play) :  Through  mine  eyes :  the  day  I  first 
came  to  London  and  they  first  rested  upon  thee  —  Or, 
if  thou  wilt,  —  by  right  of  love,  if  by  no  other  —  Be 
cause  I  love  and  desire  thee,  cousin! 

JOSEPHINE  (raising  her  hands  in  the  air  in  mock  despair, 
turning  her  back  to  him  and  resuming  her  writing) : 
Heaven  help  the  sex !  if  that  decide  every  girl's  fate. 

ROBERT:  It  were  a  happy  one,  if  all  were  as  lovable  as 
thou. 

JOSEPHINE  (raising  her  left  hand  up,  with  a  gesture  of  im 
patience):  Now,  Robert,  pray  leave  me  alone  and  in 
peace  to  finish  this  letter.  Besides,  (she  turns  suddenly 
and  faces  him)  I  may  as  well  tell  you  frankly  that  your 
protestations  of  love  do  not  in  the  least  deceive  me. 
My  dowry,  you're  aware,  is  considerable:  one  of  the 
estates  is  half  mine  and  one  half  yours;  by  marrying 


SWORDS  DRAWN  17 

me  you  would  assume  its  title;  as  it  is,  you  are  only 
plain  Robert  Courtnay;  ergo,  what  you  covet  is  princi 
pally  to  acquire  this  title  —  not  myself.  You  see,  I'm 
not  your  dupe.  (Turning  her  back  upon  him)  I've  been 
wishing  for  a  long  time  to  tell  you  I  was  not  the  simple 
ton  you  took  me  for. 

ROBERT  (who  has  been  listening  to  her  smilingly,  pretending 
not  to  take  her  seriously):  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  .  .  . 
(Going  down  stage,  heaving  a  deep  sigh)  Thorny  alas  is 
the  fairest  rose:  hence  the  more  pains  to  pluck  it.  But 
a  truce  to  jesting!  Come  —  can  you  not  delay  this 
letter  a  while? 

JOSEPHINE  :  I  do  not  wish  to. 

ROBERT:  I've  promised  Middleton  to  find  you.  Surely 
we  owe  the  Secretary  of  State  some  consideration,  by 
virtue  of  his  exalted  position? 

JOSEPHINE  (stopping  in  the  perusal  of  her  message):  For 
my  part,  I  deny  having  the  slightest  consideration 
either  for  his  position  or  for  him  —  which,  by  the  way, 
is  neither  meant  to  encourage  your  own  suit  nor  to 
please  you! 

ROBERT  (laughingly  strolling  toward  Right  3):  I'  faith! 
your  roguish  ways,  cousin,  have  the  sparkle  of  wine, 
which  makes  the  gulp  the  more  delectable.  (Then  at 
door,  sighing  comically  with  regret,  looking  at  her) 
H'n  —  So  be  it  —  I'll  report  to  Middleton.  Will  you 
come  when  you  have  a  mind  to? 

JOSEPHINE  (paying  no  attention  to  him) :  Yes. 

ROBERT  :  I'll  say  you  are  presently  engaged. 

(Josephine,  rising  with  a  sigh  of  weariness,  does  not 
answer  him.  She  walks  slowly  toward  the  chair  Right 
of  chess  table.) 

(Robert  pauses  a  second  awaiting  an  answer,  fidgets, 
sighs  grimly,  and  exits  softly  laughing.) 


18  SWORDS   DRAWN 

JOSEPHINE  (glancing  over  her  shoulder  and  seeing  that  he  is 
gone) :  Thank  heaven  to  be  rid  of  him! 
(She  returns  to  the  desk  to  add  something  to  the  message 
in  her  hand.) 

(MUSIC  —  Harp,  flute,  cello,  violin  —  is    started    off 
Right,  a  sort  of  slow  movement  ballad.) 
(Enter  JOHN  —  a  middle-aged  valet,  with  a  quiet  mien 
and  trustworthy  countenance  — from  Left  3  E.) 

JOHN:  You  summoned  me,  Miss? 

JOSEPHINE:  Yes,  John;  —  one  moment.    (She  starts  to  fold 
the  message.) 

JOHN:  Lady  Russmore  requested  me  to  say  that  she  would 
remain  in  the  library  until  you  came,  Miss. 

JOSEPHINE  (Going  to  him) :  Very  well.  —  I  wish  you  to  go 
to  Lucy  with  this  — 

(At  that  precise  instant,  the  sharp  noise,  as  of  a  ring  tap 
ping  against  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  conservatory  is  heard. 
Josephine  turns  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  without 
giving  John  the  message.  She  starts  toward  the  conser 
vatory.  The  sound  is  repeated  a  second  time.  Josephine 
parts  the  curtains  sufficiently  to  look  through.  Her  back 
is  turned  to  the  servant.  The  instant  she  looks  through 
the  curtains  she  draws  erect  and  catches  her  breath. 
Quickly  commanding  herself,  she  turns  indifferently  to 
the  servant,  coming  down  stage  idly  at  the  same  time.) 
Why,  it's  Lucy  in  the  conservatory  after  all.  You  may 
go,  John. 

JOHN:  Yes,  Miss.   (He  starts  for  the  exit  Left  3.) 

JOSEPHINE  (Turning    C.,   calls   toward   the   conservatory): 
Lucy  — 

(Exit  servant  as  she  walks  leisurely  to  Right  C.  The  in 
stant  the  servant  has  gone,  she  returns  breathlessly  toward 
the  conservatory  and  parts  the  curtains  sufficiently  to  look 
through.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  19 

Oh,  it  is  he !  waiting  to  be  admitted !  —  What  shall  I 
do?  Receive  him?  No.  But  I  can't  let  him  stay  out 
there?  If  I  should  go  out  to  him?  —  no,  I  couldn't 
trust  myself :  he'd  convince  me  despite  what  Alice  said 
—  Oh,  if  she  were  only  here  to  go  to  him  herself.  But 
no,  she  mightn't  be  as  sensible  as  I  am  to  talk  to  him. 
(She  returns  to  the  curtains  and  gives  another  look.) 
I  must  receive  him  —  he'll  understand  better  from  me 
what  risk  he  runs  in  remaining.  Yes,  that's  better. 
Besides  I  shall  have  seen  him.  I  can't  help  it,  I  want 
to  see  him. 

(After  glancing  of  Left  3  E.,  she  crosses  the  stage  rapidly 
toward  Right  3.) 

Just  the  same,  he's  so  much  ahead  of  time,  if  I  break 
my  word  to  Alice,  it's  his  fault! 

(This  is  said  as  she  glances  at  the  clock  on  her  way  Right, 
then  before  dropping  the  curtain  of  Right  3,  speaking  to 
someone  off  stage  in  quick,  excited,  gladsome  tones)  Yes, 
yes,  maman  —  Don't  come  in  too  soon !  —  (She  pro 
ceeds  toward  the  park  door  —  after  a  cautious  glance 
about  the  room,  she  swings  the  door  U.  L.  C.  open  and 
steps  back  a  little  ways.) 

(A  few  moments  later,  appears  from  off  Right,  coming  to 
the  threshold,  SIR  MILTON  LANTENAY.) 
(Sir  Milton  Lantenay  is  a  young  man  of  soldierly  bear 
ing.  He  is  about  twenty-seven  years  of  age;  his  counte 
nance  denotes  great  frankness  and  intellect;  strength  and 
resolve  combine  there  until  it  inspires  perfect  confidence. 
In  contrast  to  his  physical  strength  and  bearing,  his 
manner  is  gentle  and  kind.  He  is  the  sort  of  man  who 
has  learnt  his  lesson  of  life  through  his  own  experiences 
and  suffering.) 

(Closing  the  door,  he  comes  down  to  her  —  who  awaits 
him,  and  without  a  word  takes  her  into  his  arms  in  a 


20  SWORDS  DRAWN 

prolonged  embrace  —  about  them,  all  is  still,  except  for 
the  strains  of  music  that  float  in  from  the  drawing- 
room.} 

MILTON  (Releasing  her,  holding  her  at  arms'  length  —  his 
voice  intense  with  feeling  —  but  prudently  subdued.} 
There  —  for  prudence's  sake  let  me  rather  look  at  you! 
Four  years  since  we've  seen  each  other!  Think  of  it !  — 
yet  the  same  one  whom  I  knew  at  the  Hotel  de  Nevers 
in  Paris  —  not  in  the  least  changed ! 

JOSEPHINE:  But,  taller,  Milton. 

MILTON:  Yes;  —  and,  possibly,  still  more  beautiful!  Ah, 
Josephine,  how  I  have  hungered  for  this!  —  Still,  all 
the  dreary  years  of  separation  seem  as  forgotten  in  the 
joy  of  seeing  you  again!  ...  I  was  afraid,  dear,  lest 
Lady  Scarsdale  refuse  to  let  me  come  this  night! 

JOSEPHINE  (stepping  up  to  the  park  door  and  closing  the 
little  grill  in  the  lattice,  that  has  been  open  since  the  rise 
of  the  curtain) :  Maman  approves  of  it  —  but  as  to 
my  sanction  — 

MILTON:  I  run  not  the  least  danger:  Languenoc,  who 
brought  you  my  letter,  awaits  me  with  my  men  con 
cealed  about  the  park  —  Peter,  too,  outside  the  gate. 
At  the  least  source  of  alarm,  I'll  depart;  and  once 
astride,  I  defy  anyone  to  overtake  me. 
(Josephine  meanwhile  closes  and  locks  the  door  —  Left  3. 
This  may  be  done  before  he  enters.  He  takes  her  hands) 
The  world's  a  game  of  chance;  to  gain,  one  must  risk: 
I  shall  be  richer  tonight! 

JOSEPHINE  (looking  at  him;  apprehensively] :  Ah  —  to 
night  ! 

MILTON  (buoyant,  optimistic) :  Tonight,  Josephine,  is  a 
rare  occasion!  I  serve  the  Prince  and  behold  you! 
In  ten  days  from  tonight,  my  word  on  it,  William  of 
Orange  will  be  king  of  England. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  21 

JOSEPHINE:  But  James  is  as  confident  as  you  are  of  re 
pulsing  the  Invader! 

MILTON  (with  cheerful  assurance) :  If  I  secure  the  wanted 
information  this  night,  the  pick  of  his  army  will  be  in 
William's  hands  tomorrow! 

JOSEPHINE:  But,  still,  as  long  as  James  is  king,  you  risk 
losing  your  life:  the  very  name  you  bear  is  hateful  to 
him.  Will  it  not  mean  the  Block,  if  anyone  discovers 
you  are  in  England  and  you  are  caught? 

MILTON:  First  of  all  it  means  you  and  welcome  to  my 
birth-land,  if  I  live!  and  I  will  live  for  these!  there 
never  was  fairer  goal  to  spur  man's  intent!  Ah,  be  as 
confident  as  I  am!  And,  besides,  mark!  I  was  only  a 
boy  when  banished;  therefore  recognition  is  impos 
sible.  I  know  no  one:  Not  even  the  man  who  es 
poused  my  sister.  Is  she  here? 

JOSEPHINE  :  Yes,  in  the  library.  And  't  is  against  her 
wishes  I've  received  you;  now,  if  you  persist  to  stay, 
I  know  not  how  to  face  her. 

MILTON  :  I  fancied  she  would  not  understand  —  that  is 
why  I  insisted  she  should  come  here  —  that  I  might 
dispel  her  fears.  But  later.  First  —  object  of  my  com 
ing  first!  Is  Lord  Middleton,  the  king's  Secretary  of 
State,  here? 

JOSEPHINE:  Lord  Middleton,  —  yes? 

MILTON  :  I  learnt  by  chance  that  he  would  be  and  resolved 
upon  the  occasion  to  discover  the  movements  of  a 
body  of  the  King's  troops.  My  name  therefore,  to 
everyone  here,  is  Sieur  Raoul  d'Orsay  —  Sieur  Raoul 
d'Orsay.  Here  is  a  letter  from  your  uncle,  Lord 
Argyle,  introducing  me  as  such.  It  safeguards  your 
responsibility,  and  you  know  nought  of  me.  The 
French  side  with  the  King,  so  a  Frenchman's  name 
serves  me  best.  Sieur  Raoul  d'Orsay,  a  votre  service. 


22  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(He  mimics  a  Frenchman,  bowing  as  he  speaks  the  last 
sentence.) 

JOSEPHINE  :  But,  Milton,  were  Lord  Middleton  after  all  to 
suspect? 

MILTON:  Depend  upon  me  to  prevent  him.  Trust  me  as 
you  love  me,  Josephine. 

JOSEPHINE:  Ah,  misjudge  me  not,  if  my  heart  misgives 
me;  for  't  is  a  proof  of  love;  I  hesitate  only  because  I 
love  you. 

MILTON:  Then,  because  you  do  love  me,  let  your  faith, 
unswerving,  prove  the  source  of  my  strength  and  cun 
ning  this  night!  the  stanchion  of  my  every  hope.  The 
thought  of  possessing  you,  constantly  as  it  is  before 
me,  lends  fresh  vigor  to  all  my  efforts,  becomes  my 
strongest  incentive  to  fight!  To  fight  and  to  struggle! 
—  to  struggle,  girl !  —  until  we  conquer !  —  so  that  in 
the  hour  of  victory,  with  hearts  jubilant  over  the  task 
achieved,  —  I  may  say  to  you:  "Josephine,  I  love 
you  .  .  .be  —  my  wife.  .  .  . 
(He  draws  her  slowly  into  his  arms.) 
(LADY  SCARSDALE,  while  they  are  still  in  embrace,  pokes 
her  head  through  the  curtain  of  Right  3  E.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (playfully) :  Sorry  to  disturb  you,  chil 
dren! 

(Josephine  blushingly  breaks  away  from  Milton's  arms 
and  covers  her  face  a  second  with  her  hands  good-na 
turedly.) 

JOSEPHINE:  Oh,  maman! 

(Enter   Lady   Scarsdale.     Milton   brightly   goes   to   her 

encounter.) 

(MUSIC:  bright,  spirited  is  started  off  Right.) 

(Lady  Scarsdale  is  a  very  refined,  genial,  kindly  and 

handsome  matronly  woman.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (extending  both  hands  to  Milton  in  wel- 


SWORDS   DRAWN  23 

come):  This  selfish  girl  might  have  left  me  out  there, 

playing  the  sentinel  all  night! 

(Josephine  goes  to  Right  3,  remaining  near  the  door  to 

keep  watch.) 
MILTON  (warmly  pressing  her  hands) :  Lady  Scarsdale  — 

How  happy  I  am  to  see  you ! 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Very   fortunate   you   are:  (Casting   a 

meaning  glance  in  her  daughter's  direction)  I  feared  you 

might  not  under  the  circumstances. 
MILTON  (smilingly) :  Always  according  to  the  intruder's 

desirability. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  You    dear    boy.  —  (Then,     becoming 

serious)  But  about   this   mission,   Milton  —  tell   me ! 

Is  it  not  a  very  venturesome  one  ? 
MILTON:  Not  if  I  may  count  upon  your  cooperation. 
LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Ah,  that  you  can  depend  upon  —  with 

heart  and  mind.    You  and  I  were  the  victims  of  a 

same  wrong:  James  foully  induced  his  brother  Charles 

II  to  take  your  father's  and  my  husband's  lives  on 

Tower  Hill.    I've  not  forgotten  thatl 
MILTON:  Nor  has  Prince  William:  'Twill  knock  loudest 

at  his  heart  the  day  he  is  King  of  England! 
JOSEPHINE  (brusquely   leaving   her   position    by   Right    3, 

approaching   her  mother) :  Maman  —  someone's   com 
ing!  (She  goes  to  Center  table  and  takes  up  Milton's 

letter  of  introduction.) 
MILTON  (lowering  his  voice  and  quickly  addressing  Lady 

Scarsdale) :  My  name  is  Sieur  Raoul  d'Orsay.   Sieur 

Raoul  d'Orsay. 

(Josephine  hands  her  mother  Lord  Argyle's  letter;  she 

then  Xes  to  Left  3  and  unlocks  that  door.   Milton  points 

to  letter  which  Josephine  has  remitted  her.} 

My  letter  of  introduction  from  your  brother,  Lord 

Argyle. 


24  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(Lady  Scarsdale  casts  her  eyes  over  it.   After  opening  the 

door  Left  3,  Josephine  descends  the  stage  and  sits  in  the 

arm-chair  idly  fanning  herself.) 

(Simultaneously  the  voice  of  Robert  Courtnay  is  heard  as 

he  lifts  the  curtain  of  Right  3,  for  Signora  Santoni  to 

enter.) 
ROBERT  (as  he  holds  the  curtain  aloft  for  her  to  enter) :  Your 

voice  is  perfectly  ravishing,  Signora  Santoni:  You  sing 

yourself  into  your  listeners'  hearts! 

(Signora  Santoni  is  a  voluptuous,  genial  Italian  woman — 

prima  donna-like.) 
SIGNORA  SANTONI  (touching  him  with  the  point  of  her  fan 

as  she  enters) :  Oh,  fie,  Mr.  Courtnay  —  You  are  a  con 
summate  courtier.    (To  Lady  Scarsdale,  coming  to  her) 

Flattery  is  a  sin  taught  at  court;  ask  your  nephew 

absent  himself  from  it. 
LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Methinks  it  has  taught  him  a  true  ear, 

Signora. 
SIGNORA  SANTONI  :  Nay  —  if  it  is  as  bad  as  his  tongue. 

(Robert  laughs.) 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Signora  Santoni,  permit  me  to  present 

to  you  Sieur  d'Orsay  —  a  stranger  in  our  midst. 

(Milton  bows.) 

My  nephew,  Robert  Courtnay. 

(Milton    inclines    his    head   graciously;    Robert   stiffly. 

Robert  proceeds  toward  Josephine,  curiously  examining 

Milton  as  he  walks  down.) 

Signora  Santoni  must  perforce  favor  us  again  for  Sieur 

d'Orsay 's  benefit. 
MILTON  (who  has  adopted  the  manner;  now  adopting  the 

tone  of  a  Frenchman) :  Eete  eeze  a  pleasure  I  dare  not 

for  to  'ope. 
SIGNORA  SANTONI:   The     more     readily    granted     then, 

Monsieur.    Sieur  d'Orsay  is  fond  of  music? 


SWORDS   DRAWN  25 

MILTON  :  Ah !  —  Like  a  trrue  Frenchman,  Madame ! 

SIGNORA  SANTONI  (sniffing  the  air  with  delight}:  The 
odour  of  mignonettes,  Lady  Scarsdale? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (stepping  to  the  conservatory,  fastening 
one  curtain,  leaving  a  half  masked  entrance):  They 
grow  profusely  in  my  little  garden.  Let  me  gather  you 
some. 

SIGNORA  SANTONI  (entering  the  conservatory,  followed  by 
Lady  Scarsdale) :  Oh,  thank  you. 
(Milton  follows  them  within,  remaining  in  view  beyond 
the  entrance.    The  two  ladies  are  out  of  sight.) 
(Robert  Courtnay,  who,   standing  back  of  Josephine's 
chair,  has  been  meanwhile  studying  Milton,  now  turns 
his  attention  to  his  cousin  —  speaking  over  her  head.) 

ROBERT  (with  assumed,  quiet,  indifference):  Who  is  this 
Frenchman,  cousin? 

JOSEPHINE:  Maman  just  informed  you:  Sieur  Raoul 
d'Orsay. 

ROBERT  (half  to  himself,  again  glancing  toward  the  con 
servatory)  :  Strange  —  I've  never  heard  of  him. 

JOSEPHINE  (already  on  the  alert.  But  same,  dry,  impassive 
tones) :  Because  you've  never  been  in  France. 

ROBERT:  Made  you  his  acquaintance  there? 

JOSEPHINE  (deliberate  —  careful  of  her  answer) :  I  don't 
think  Sieur  d'Orsay  was  in  Paris  at  the  time. 

ROBERT:  Who  introduced  him  here? 

(Josephine's  eyebrows  draw  into  a  slight  frown.) 

JOSEPHINE  (still  looking  ahead  —  quietly) :  He  presented 
a  letter  of  introduction  from  Lord  Argyle,  of  whom  he 
is  an  intimate  friend. 

ROBERT  (with  a  sudden  arch  of  the  brow,  as  if  light  was  mak 
ing  itself  in  his  mind.  Josephine  is  unawares  of  this) : 
Forsooth !  ( Then  smiling  serenely)  Then  —  he  is  the 
—  at-the-time  nameless,  so-called  "Gentleman  of 


26  SWORDS   DRAWN 

France"  whom  I  overheard  our  uncle  praising  in  accord 
with  you  one  day? 

JOSEPHINE  (rising  and  facing  him):  Robert!  what  is  this 
idle  talk  about? 

ROBERT  :  Oh,  nothing.  Nothing.  .  .  .  (He  strolls  down  and 
halts  D.  L.  C.  idly  playing  with  the  lace  of  his  sleeve, 
speaks  on  the  way)  Only,  I  recollect  observing  then 
the  strange  enthusiasm  you  manifested  in  so  entire  a 
stranger. 

(Milton,  by  this  time,  has  disappeared  from  view  within 
the  conservatory.) 

JOSEPHINE  (sharply) :  What  do  you  mean? 

ROBERT  (same  calm  smile,  turning  and  facing  her) :  Simply 
this  —  that  I  will  quarrel  with  any  man  who  presumes 
to  cross  me  —  in  love  or  in  politics,  cousin. 

JOSEPHINE  (with  sufficient  evidence  of  vexation  —  under 
her  breath  to  him):  Then,  let  me  tell  you  in  turn,  sir! 
that  your  pretensions  are  becoming  utterly  insufferable 
—  and  that  if  you  really  care  for  me,  you're  adopting 
the  wrong  means  to  convince  me  of  it.  Sieur  d'Orsay 
is  our  guest,  and  as  such  is  entitled  to  our  courtesy. 
If  you  presume  to  offend  him,  maman  will  never 
forgive  you!  First  you  suspect  Lord  Middleton,  and 
then  this  stranger!  you're  positively  stupid,  Robert  — 
and  stupidity  is  a  trait  I  detest !  Tomorrow,  when  you 
have  recovered  your  wits,  I  may  consent  to  prove  to 
you  how  absurd  you  are !  For  the  present  I  wish  to  be 
left  in  peace,  sir!  (She  returns  to  her  seat)  And  mind 
that  you  do  leave  me! 

(Robert  remains  a  second  longer  where  he  stood,  grinning — 
then  abruptly  he  starts  to  X  the  stage  Right.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (calling  softly  from  within  the  conserva 
tory)  :  Josephine,  dear. 

JOSEPHINE  (rising) :  Yes,  maman. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  27 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (appearing  at  the  entrance,  arranging  a 
bunch  of  mignonettes) :  Will  you  go  request  Lord  Russ- 
more  and  his  wife  to  come  and  join  us?  (Without 
waiting  for  an  answer  she  returns  into  the  conservatory.) 
(Josephine  remains  perplexed  a  mere  instant,  but  feeling 
that  her  cousin's  eyes  are  upon  her,  smiling  at  her,  as  it 
were,  for  her  recent  admonition,  she  tosses  her  head  up 
coldly  and  ignoring  him  completely,  mounts  up  stage  and 
exits  Left  3.) 

ROBERT  (laughing  softly  and  grimly,  as  she  thus  makes 
her  exit!  H'n!  h'n!  h'nl  h'nl  .  .  .  After  her  exit, 
casting  his  eyes  to  the  floor,  then  suddenly  upwards,  re 
flecting,  strolling  toward  Center) :  Tomorrow,  eh?  ... 
(He  pauses  Center,  and  turns  his  head  and  body  suffi 
ciently  around  to  study  Milton  who  is  again  partly  seen 
within  the  conservatory.)  Same  features !  —  the  chin, 
the  brows,  and  high  forehead.  I  was  conscious  of  the 
resemblance  instantly!  Josephine  avers  that  she  has 
met  him  tonight  for  the  first  time,  and  yet  —  has  a 
small  picture  painted  of  him  hung  in  her  room;  is 
unaware  that  I  have  seen  this  precious  miniature  — 
wondering  whom  the  fellow  might  be.  (He  starts  Right 
again,  smiling  grimly.)  Tomorrow,  eh?  .  .  .  (He 
mounts  toward  the  desk  cabinet  that  stands  below  Right 
3  E)  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  ...  By  m'  sword  no!  I'll 
probe  the  mystery  tonight! 

(He  picks  up  a  book  from  the  top  of  the  cabinet,  opens  it 
to  suggest  he  is  reading  it,  at  the  same  time  casting  a 
furtive  glance  toward  the  conservatory,  then,  facing  the 
desk  cabinet,  he  turns  a  little  hand-painted  mirror,  set 
on  a  tiny  easel,  so  that  it  shall  reflect  directly  to  him  every 
one  in  the  conservatory.  Apparently  reading  his  book, 
but  looking  over  the  pages,  he  observes  them.  All  this  is 
done  rapidly  and  simultaneously  as  Lady  Scarsdale 
laughs  within  the  conservatory.) 


28  SWORDS   DRAWN 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (coming  to  the  entrance,  laughing  softly, 
amused  at  the  manner  in  which  Milton  portrays  the 
Frenchman):  Ha!  ha!  Pray,  Sieur  d'Orsay  —  to  the 
nature  of  each  gift,  conform  your  expressions  of  grati 
tude.  (As  she  passes  out,  Milton  holding  the  curtain  for 
her)  A  single  stem  of  mignonette  is  assuredly  merest 
trifle. 

MILTON  (following  her  into  the  room):  Geeve  anyt'ing  to 
a  Frenchman  —  an'  'ee  will  t'ank  you  vary  much. 
(Raising  the  stem  to  his  nose  and  inhaling  with  affecta 
tion}  M'm  —  I  adore  ze  mignonettes! 
(Lady  Scarsdale  smilingly  proceeds  down  to  the  mantel 
and  arranges  her  flowers  in  a  vase  on  the  mantel.  Signora 
Santoni  has  followed  them  to  the  entrance  of  the  conserva 
tory,  also  arranging  a  bunch  of  mignonettes.) 

SIGNORA  SANTONI  (coming  down  and  also  inhaling  their 
perfume) :  They  are  delicious ! 

(She  perceives  His  Grace  the  BISHOP  ORSINI  entering 
Left  3.) 

(His  Grace  Bishop  Orsini  is  a  holy  man  of  about  fifty 
years  of  age,  portly  and  possessed  of  a  fatherly,  good- 
natured  countenance.   He  is  Italian.} 
(Nodding  in  greeting  to  Him)  Bouna  sera  allor  sua 
Excellenza!    ("Good  evening,  your  Grace.") 

His  GRACE  (advancing  without  seeing  Lady  Scarsdale): 
Saluto  alia  Signora  Santoni !  ("  Greeting  —  Signora 
Santoni.")  (Then  shaking  his  finger  reprovingly  — 
serio-comic,  marching  up  to  her)  Daughter  —  daughter 
—  more  and  more  do  I  hear  that  thy  songs  are  a 
source  of  unrest  to  all  those  who  with  ears  and  a  human 
heart  are  blest! 

SIGNORA  SANTONI  (with  mock  penitence) :  Alas,  then,  Pa 
dre,  what  manner  of  abstinence  again  will  your  Grace 
impose,  or  penance  decree? 


SWORDS   DRAWN  29 

His  GRACE  :  Marry,  Signora,  that  you  shall  sing  again  — 

this  night  —  this  time  for  me ! 

(Lady  Scarsdale  laughs.   He  perceives  her  and  nods  in  a 

friendly  way.) 

(Enter  Lord  Russmore  simultaneously,   Left  3.   Lady 

Scarsdale  sees  him.) 

(Lord  Russmore  is  about  35  years  of  age.   His  manner  is 

reposeful,  courteous,  affable,  and  withal  dignified.   His 

hair  is  brown,  his  face  firm,  yet  kindly;    his  forehead 

broad,  suggestive  of  frankness  withal  of  determination.) 
LADY  SCARSDALE:    (going    to    him):    Greeting    m'  lord. 

(Robert  has  strolled  into  the  conservatory.) 
LORD  RUSSMORE:  Again  good  evening,  Lady  Scarsdale. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Lord  Russmore,  permit  me  to  present 

to  you  Sieur  d'Orsay.  Sieur  d'Orsay,  Lord  Russmore. 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (extending  Milton  his  hand) :  France  is  a 

national  ally.  —  To  meet  one  of  her  sons  is  a  pleasure. 
MILTON  (smiling  and  at  the  same  time  observing  the  man 

who  is  his  brother-in-law) :  Dat  eeeze   trrue  English 

welcome,  mee  lord. 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (addressing  Lady  Scarsdale) :  I  fear  we 

shall  have  to  make  an  untimely  exit,  Lady  Scarsdale; 

but  I  have  found  Lady  Russmore,  in  the  company  of 

your  daughter,  slightly  indisposed. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Oh,  I'm  sure  it  is  nothing  more  than 

the  migraine  of  which  she  complained  when  she  arrived. 

Leave  her  to  me  —  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  to  relieve 

her. 

(CELLO  SOLO  —  with  accompaniment  —  is  started  off 

Right.) 
SIGNORA  SANTONI:  Ah!  —  Meatore's  new  creation.  (After 

listening  a  second  longer)  We  ought  not  to  miss  it.  — 

(His  Grace  steps  a  trifle  Right  —  listening  to  the  music.) 
(Robert  comes  away  from  the  conservatory  and  strolls  idly 


30  SWORDS   DRAWN 

toward  the  table  Center.  Milton  gradually  winds  his 
way  into  the  conservatory  during  the  ensuing.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  And  think  of  it,  m'  lord,  afterwards 
Signora  Santoni  will  sing  again  for  us.  You  mustn't 
desert  us. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  We  shall  certainly  remain  to  hear 
Signora  Santoni. 

SIGNORA  SANTONI:  You  do  me  great  honour,  m' lord. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (addressing  Robert  who  is  going  toward 
the  conservatory  —  disposed  to  follow  Milton  there) : 
Robert! 

(Then,  as  he  stops,  addressing  the  Bishop)  Your  Grace, 
my  nephew  will  escort  you  to  the  drawing  room  and 
introduce  you  to  our  friends.  If  you  please,  Robert. 
(He  conceals  his  feelings;  she  smiles  casually,  as  if  her 
request  hid  no  definite  objective :  to  keep  him  away.  He 
steps  to  the  exit  Right  3.) 

His  GRACE:  Thank  you,  Lady  Scarsdale. 

(Robert  holds  the  curtain  for  him  to  pass  out.) 

(Exeunt  both.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Pray  accept  my  arm,  Signora. 
(Signora  Santoni  does  so,  nodding  graciously.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (going  to  the  bell-rope,  near  the  clock 
U.  C.,  before  ringing) :  I  will  join  you  anon,  my  lord, 
together  with  Alice.  (She  pulls  the  bell-rope.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  If  you  will  —  thank  you,  Lady  Scars- 
dale. 

(He  exits  after  the  Signora.   A  brief  pause  during  which 
Lady  Scarsdale  goes  to  the  park  door  and  drops  the  latch 
—  locking  it  —  and  sees  that  the  grill  is  shut.   Milton 
comes  out  of  the  conservatory.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (to  Milton  who  goes  to  Right  3,  and  looks 
off  a  second) :  Alice  has  let  her  husband  see  that  she's 
distressed. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  31 

MILTON  (leaving  the  door) :  We  must  contrive  to  reassure 
her. 

JOSEPHINE  (entering  Left  3) :  Maman  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Well  —  ? 

JOSEPHINE  :  Alice  is  terribly  upset  —  And  she's  determined 
that  you  shall  go,  Milton.  She  wishes  to  see  you  at 
once. 

MILTON:  I'll  come. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (stretching  out  her  arm,  stopping  him. 
To  Josephine) :  WThere  is  she? 

JOSEPHINE:  Waiting  in  my  boudoir. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Bring  her  here  —  't  is  safer. 
(Exit  Josephine  Left  3.) 

(To  Milton,  who  proceeds  toward  the  park  door,  as  she  goes 
to  Right  3.)  Besides,  methinks  you  will  need  me  here 
with  you  —  as  a  moral  prop,  to  bring  her  to  her  senses. 
(She  looks  off  Right,  a  second  or  two.  Milton  raises  the 
latch  of  the  park  door  and,  opening  it,  steps  out,  closing 
the  door  two  thirds  after  him.  Enter  John  from  Left  3.) 

JOHN:  Your  ladyship  rang? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (coming  to  the  desk  cabinet  —  opening 
it  and  seeing  that  a  piece  of  parchment,  ink,  quill-pen  and 
sand  box  are  in  readiness :)  Yes,  John.  Order  more  wine 
served  in  the  drawing  room.  My  oldest  vintage  for 
Lord  Middleton's  cup  —  and  see  to  it  that  it  is  never 
left  empty.  (She  mounts  toward  the  conservatory)  You 
understand? 

JOHN:  (crossing  toward  Right  3  E.) :  Perfectly. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (preparing  to  let  down  the  curtain  at  the 
conservatory,  which  she  fastened  up  previously,  earlier 
in  the  act) :  Shut  the  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  cor 
ridor  —  Let  no  one  through  until  I  come. 
(John  pauses  before  the  exit  to  nod  affirmatively.) 

(Exit  John  Right  3.) 


32  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(Clock  U.  L.  C.  strikes  the  half  hour  after  ten.  Lady 
Scarsdale  speaks  as  if  it  were  to  herself  while  arranging 
the  curtains  so  that  the  entrance  to  the  conservatory  is 
completely  masked)  If  I'm  not  mistaken,  more's  to  be 
feared  from  Alice's  attitude  than  from  the  Secretary 
of  State. 

(Going  to  the  window  curtain,  lifting  it  to  make  sure  that 
the  window  is  closed,  then  draping  the  curtain  so  that  it 
completely  masks.)  However,  we  must  bring  her  to 
reason. 

JOSEPHINE  (re-appearing  Left  3  —  to  her  mother) :  Can  she 
come  in? 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Yes;  —  (She  looks  for  Milton  and  sees 
him  through  the  opening  of  the  door.) 

JOSEPHINE  (meanwhile) :  All  right,  Alice.  (Leaving  the 
door,  she  comes  down  a  little.  Lady  Scarsdale  takes  a 
position  awaiting  her  near  the  center  table,  Right  of  it. 
Milton  slips  quietly  in  as  Alice  enters  Left  3,  passing 
below  him,  not  noticing  him.  He  quietly  closes  the  door 
back  of  him  and  remains  on  the  step,  in  the  casement,  re 
taining  hold  of  the  latch.) 

ALICE  (as  she  enters,  quickly  Xing  to  Center,  then,  glancing 
about  and  not  having  seen  Milton,  addressing  Lady 
Scarsdale) :  Lady  Scarsdale  —  This  is  frightful !  Jose 
phine  should  never  have  let  him  enter.  —  Where  is  he 
now? 

(By  this  time,  Milton  has  slipped  indoors,  as  above 
described.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (coming  to  her  Center,  taking  hold  of  her 
hands) :  Alice  —  I  want  you  to  see  him !  but  first  you 
must  be  calm,  dear! 

ALICE  (releasing  her  hands):  Calm?  —  (She  comes  down 
stage  Left  of  Center,  pressing  one  hand  to  her  forehead, 
laughing  softly,  hysterically  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 


SWORDS   DRAWN  33 

then,  miserably]  I  was  so  confident  he  was  still  abroad 

—  now,  oh !  —  (Makes  a  gesture  of  despair;  then  ad 
vancing  to  below  table,  left  of  same,  facing  Lady  Scars- 
dale)  —  Why  did  he  write  he  was  being  sent  on  to 
France?  and  make  me  believe  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (coming  to  Right  of  table) :  Because  he 
well  knew  your  loving  heart,  which  might  have  be 
trayed  the  fear  you  entertained  of  his  coming  — 

ALICE  :  Oh,  but  he  shouldn't  have  deceived  me !  — 

(She  suddenly  hears  the  muffled  sound  of  applause  of  the 
guests  as  Meatore's  cello  comes  to  an  end.  She  Xes  to 
Right  Center ;  front  of  the  settee,  facing  in  the  direction  of 
the  draining  room)  And  now  he  is  here  —  here  to  spy 
on  Middleton,  of  all  men! 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (a  trifle  down  Center,  addressing  her): 
Alice  — 

ALICE  (facing  her  —  left  turn  so  as  not  to  see  Milton  as 
yet):  And  here  you  let  him  be!  (Indicating  toward  off 
Right)  In  the  midst  of  James'  partisans:  Each  man  a 
foe  — 

(Milton  leaves  the  doorway  and  slowly  advances  till 
above  Center  table.) 

—  just  like  so  many  hounds  who  will  end  by  scenting 
their  prey.  .  .  (Slightly  facing  Right)  Oh,  'tis  beyond 
daring!     (Turning  to  Lady  S.  again)  I  must  see  him  at 
once ! — 

(As  Milton  left  the  casement  of  the  park  door,  Josephine 
mounted  up  stage  to  replace  the  latch.  She  replaces  the 
latch,  creating  a  clicking  sound,  just  as  the  last  word 
passes  Alice's  lips  —  this  clicking  sound  causes  Alice  to 
look  in  that  direction  —  In  doing  so,  she  finds  herself 
face  to  face  with  Milton,  who  immediately  addresses  her. 
MILTON  (speaking  firmly  and  quietly,  as  she  utters  the  last 
word,  and  the  dropping  of  the  latch  makes  her  perceive 


34  SWORDS   DRAWN 

him) :  Alice  —  To  place  you  on  your  guard,  lest  un 
prepared  you  had  chanced  to  encounter  me  elsewhere, 
'twas  I  who  insisted  that  we  should  meet  here  to-night! 
(With  a  total  change  of  manner  —  slowly  coming  to  her, 
his  voice  now  tender,  vibrating  with  subdued  emotion) 
—  Oh,  my  sister !  .  .  .  Seven  years  since  I've  seen  you! 
Good  God !  what  it  has  cost  me  —  With  but  rare  and 
scant  news  of  you  —  And  now  .  .  .  here  .  .  .  you 
are  .  .  . 

ALICE  (without  moving  or  altering  her  position;  her  voice 
likewise    subdued    and    tremulous) :    Aye  —  but  .  .  . 
here  .  .  .  you  are  —  bent   upon   accomplishing  your 
utter  ruin! 

MILTOX:  On  the  contrary  —  not  mine,  but  the  king's! 

ALICE  (drawing  erect  and  interrupting  him) :  Oh,  I  know.  — 
I  can  well  see  that  you  are  fighting-mad;  but  I  beseech 
you  —  enough  that  you  are  in  England  —  at  least,  at 
least  abandon  your  mad  projects  here  tonight  —  and 
leave  at  once! 

MILTON  :  No  — 

ALICE:  You  will  not? 

MILTON:  No,  Alice. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Alice,  listen  to  reason;  too  much's  at 
stake  in  the  fulfilment  of  Milton's  duty  here! 

ALICE:  And  what  if  that  duty  costs  him  his  head,  Lady 
Scarsdale? 

MILTON:  As  I  live  it  shall  not,  Alice! 

ALICE:  Oh,  you  will  both  end  by  driving  me  frantic! 

(She  Xes  Left  —  Lady  Scarsdale  profits  of  this  to  go  to 
Right  3  and  glance  off,  then  shut  the  door.} 
Duty!  Duty!  Duty!  (Turning  to  her  brother}  Milton, 
every  woman  that  has  a  heart  shudders  at  the  word 
duty,  born  of  the  mind  of  man.  —  In  these  times,  to 
her,  't  is  like  a  monster  without  feelings !  My  husband, 


SWORDS  DRAWN  35 

like  you,  is  the  soul  of  duty!  He  is  here!  And  yet, 
because  of  duty,  though  you  are  his  kinsman,  he  would 
order  your  arrest,  if  he  came  to  suspect;  because  he 
serves  the  King  — 

MILTON:  And  I  the  Prince  whom  he  hates! 

ALICE:  So  —  don't  you  see?  .  .  .  O  Milton,  I  beg  of 
you  not  to  attempt  to  spy  on  Middleton  —  Even  to 
enter  the  drawing-room  is  fraught  with  danger! 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  But,  my  dear,  no  one  in  England 
knows  Milton,  omitting  ourselves  and  Lord  Argyle. 

ALICE  (She  Xes  to  Josephine):  No  matter! 

MILTON:  Not  even  your  husband! 

ALICE  (to  Josephine) :  I  beg  of  you,  dear  — help  me  prevail 
upon  him! 

JOSEPHINE:  I  cannot,  Alice;  it  was  wrong  of  me  a  while  ago 
to  have  weakened;  now,  I'm  resolved  evermore  to 
help  him. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (who  meanwhile  has  gone  to  Right  3 
again,  opened  the  door  and  glanced  off  —  returning] :  My 
dear  Alice — once  and  for  all,  pray  receive  the  assurance 
from  me  that  Milton  runs  not  the  slightest  danger  here 
this  night! 

ALICE  (hopelessly} :  —  I  see  —  •  't  is  of  no  avail  to  argue — 
You  are  both  in  league  with  him  —  you  who  mayhap  do 
not  care  as  /  do.  .  .  .  Milton,  it  breaks  my  heart  — 
to  think  that  you  will  not  heed  me.  .  .  . 
(Semi-tearjully  and  semi-laughter)  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  .  .  . 
I  who  should  feel  so  joyous  at  seeing  you  again,  and 
who  can  only  tremble  and  feel  anguish — God  be  merci 
ful.  .  .  .  (She  sits  in  the  armchair  Left  Center.) 

MILTON  :  God  is  merciful  to  you  and  I  this  night !  For  if 
my  mission  here  turns  to  good  account  —  ours,  to 
morrow,  the  preponderance  over  James'  army  —  Ah, 
be  of  good  cheer,  sister! 


36  SWORDS   DRAWN 

ALICE:  Be  of  good  cheer  .  .  .  (She  laughs  grimly)  H'n! 
h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  ...  If  I  saw  you  walking  headlong 
toward  some  precipice — think  you  I  could  make  merry? 

MILTON:  But  these  are  mere  fanciful  words  and  imaginings. 

ALICE:  No,  they  are  not;  but  a  keener  perception  of  the 
danger  attending  your  presence  here. 

MILTON  (firmly   and  decisively) :  Alice  —  Never,  ere  this, 
have  I  spoken  harshly  to  you.    You  compel  me.   The 
danger  to  me  here  this  night  —  is  yourself ! 
(Alice  suddenly  glares  at  him.) 

Nay,  hear  me  through  —  \Vhen  you  and  I  wrere  ban 
ished  and  we  drifted  into  Holland,  penniless  exiles, 
William  of  Orange  gave  us  welcome  —  took  me  into 
his  service,  honored  us  as  our  birth  deserved;  the  day 
his  army  landed  at  Torbay,  someone  w7hom  he  could 
trust  implicitly  was  needed  to  undertake  a  difficult 
task,  I  seized  this  means  —  and  from  ulterior  motives 
—  to  prove  to  him  my  gratitude.  Through  seventeen 
years  of  exile,  Alice,  have  I  waited  for  this  opportunity 
of  avenging  the  memory  of  our  father.  Now  the  mo 
ment's  at  hand !  His  last  kiss  was  wafted  to  you,  as  he 
went  to  meet  his  doom;  but  his  last  words  he  spoke  to 
me  —  his  son!  .  .  .  He  died  a  martyr  —  And  his 
murder  cries  out  to  the  blood  in  you  as  well  as  to  the 
blood  in  me!  To  them  who  suffered  most,  first  retri 
bution  in  justice  is  due!  What  you  and  I  have  lost, 
alas,  in  the  better  part,  is  forever  lost;  the  dead  may 
not  be  restored;  but  the  living,  who,  in  bloody  pack, 
by  foul  means  stole  their  lives  away,  shall  still  answer 
the  living!  That  is  why  I  am  here!  And  that  is  why  you 
must  not  thwart  me!  .  .  . 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Alice  dear  —  through  the  same  crafti 
ness  of  James  —  to  secure  his  own  ends  —  the  Block 
on  Tower  Hill  was  still  red  and  warm  with  my  hus- 


SWORDS   DRAWN  37 

band's  blood  when  your  father,  in  turn,  laid  down  his 
head  upon  it.  —  For  seventeen  years,  I  have  worn  the 
mask  that  has  insured  me  immunity;  you,  Alice,  his 
daughter,  will  you  now  show  less  fortitude  than  I  in 
wearing  it  for  a  little  while? 

JOSEPHINE  (kneeling  the  other  side  of  Alice} :  Maman  is 
right !  —  and  Milton  pins  all  his  faith  to  this  night's 
achievement  —  't  is  a  means  that  we  may  soon  belong 
to  each  other.  Won't  you  help  us?  You  do  wish  me  to 
become  your  sister  —  do  you  not? 

ALICE  (drawing  her  close  to  her} :  Oh,  yes !  yes ! 

JOSEPHINE:  And  you'll  be  brave  and  be  sure  not  to  betray 
him? 

ALICE  (rising) :  Lady  Scarsdale  —  what  is  it  that  you  all 
exact  of  me? 

(A  sudden  noise  as  of  some  one  trying  to  open  the  park 
door,  followed  by  a  discreet  rapping,  is  heard.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Sh !  — 

(She  leaves  Right  3;  Josephine  goes  to  take  her  place, 
opening  the  door  and  remaining  by  the  curtain  on  guard. 
Simultaneously  the  applause  of  the  guests  is  heard  as  the 
encore  of  Meatores  cello  solo  comes  to  an  end.  Milton 
approaches  his  sister,  whose  gaze  has  reverted  to  the  park 
door.) 

MILTON  (taking  both  her  hands,  lowering  his  voice):  That 
you  steel  your  heart,  for  my  sake  —  granting  me  the 
double  share  in  meting  out  His  Majesty's  dues !  — 

ALICE:  Promise  that  you  will  be  careful. 

MILTON:  I  promise  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (who  by  this  time  has  opened  the  slightest 
bit  the  small  grill  in  the  lattice  of  the  park  door,  and  peered 
outside  a  second  —  now  closing  it)  'Tis  well.    'Tis  only 
Lucy. 
(She  raises  the  latch  and  Lucy  enters.) 


38  SWORDS   DRAWN 

JOSEPHINE  (leaving  Right  3  at  the  same  time) :  Milton  — 

someone  is  stepping  out  of  the  drawing-room. 
MILTON:  Let's  pretend  to  play  this  game. 

(He  sits  one  side  and  Josephine  the  other,  of  the  chess 

table.} 
LADY  SCARSDALE  (as  Lucy  closes  the  door  and  replaces  the 

latch) :  Take  John's  place  in  the  hall  —  abiding  there 

till  I  ring. 

(Lucy  nods  and  exits  Left  3.   Lady  Scarsdale  steps  to 

Alice  and  takes  her  arm)  Come,  dear  — 

(Simultaneously,  the  curtain  Right  3  is  pushed    aside 

and  Lord  Russmore  enters.) 
MILTON  (simultaneously  with  Lord  Russmore' 's  entrance  — 

resuming  his  French) :  Je   vois  —  Dee  knight  attack 

me  dee  queen. 

(Both  appear  engrossed  in  the  game.) 
LADY  SCARSDALE  (walking  with  Alice  to  Lord  Russmore's 

encounter) :  Behold,  my  lord  —  my  restoratives  have 

had  good  effect. 
LORD  RUSSMORE:   I'm  very  happy  to  hear  it.    How  are 

you  feeling  now,  dear? 
ALICE  (affecting  a  bright  smile) :  Oh,  much  relieved,  Hugo! 

(Milton  and  Josephine  raise  their  heads  a  second  and 

exchange  glances.) 
LORD  RUSSMORE:  Signora  Santoni  is  to  sing,  and  I  have 

promised  that  we  should  defer  our  departure  until 

afterwards. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  WTe  were  just  on  the  point  of  joining 

you. 
ALICE  :  I  will  lead  the  way. 

(She  proceeds  to  Right  3.   Lord  Russmore  offers  his  arm 

to  Lady  Scarsdale.    They  follow.) 
MILTON:  I  weil  mak'  de  good  bishop  interfere  for  de  Queen 

against  ze  bold  knight!    (He  plays.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  39 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (before  making  her  exit,  over  her  shoulder 
to  her  daughter) :  Are  you  not  coming? 
(This  is  meant  for  Milton  as  well.) 

JOSEPHINE  (quickly) :  But  one  move  more — we'll  follow  you. 
(Exeunt  Lord  Russmore,  Lady  Scarsdale  and  Alice.) 
(As  they  make  their  exit  —  the  orchestra  begins  the  pre 
lude  to  Signora  Santoni's  song  —  off  Right.) 
(The  following  scene  between  Milton  and  Josephine 
should  be  played  quietly  and  become  pleasing  through 
its  simplicity.) 

(When  the  room  is  once  more  deserted  and  while  the 
music  is  being  played  preluding  the  song,  Milton  and 
Josephine  look  at  each  other  from  across  the  chess-board.) 

MILTON  (with  simplicity) :  How  wondrous  a  fellow-player 
you're  proving  to  be. 

JOSEPHINE  (with  modest  simplicity):  That  is  not  strange. 
Yet,  at  the  onset,  my  heart  almost  failed  me. 
( The  song  begins  off  Right.) 

MILTON  (rising,  slowly) :  And  now  —  ? 

JOSEPHINE  (as  she  also  rises):  My  heart's  altogether  in 
the  part  I'm  assigned  to  play. 

MILTON  (meeting  her  above  the  table):  Would  that  I  had 
leave  now  to  express  all  that  is  in  my  heart  for  you. 

JOSEPHINE  :  Once  our  side  has  won  —  you  may,  Milton. 

MILTON  :  But  until  then  —  ? 

JOSEPHINE:  We'll  keep  our  troth:  our  souls  merged  in 
hope  o'  the  outcome. 

MILTON  :  Let  me  then  redouble  efforts  soon  to  possess  you ! 

JOSEPHINE  (coy,  simple):  I'm  most  humbly  willing. — 
To  begin  with,  we'll  now  proceed  to  meet  His  Majesty's 
friends. 

MILTON  (extending  his  hand  to  her) :  Come ! 

JOSEPHINE  (as  she  gives  him  her  hand) :  Do  you  remember, 
four  years  ago? 


40  SWORDS   DRAWN 


SONG  OF  THE  SIGNORA 

"  Connaissez-vous  mon  Isabelle? 

Au  front  si  doux,  aux  yeux  si  beaux! 
La  blonde  enfant  que  Ton  appelle 

La  Charmeuse  d'oiseaux! 
Elle  a  dix  ans,  c'est  une  rose, 

Un  vrai  bouton  de  mon  jardin! 
C'est  une  fleur  a  peine  eclose, 

Qui  me  naquit  un  beau  matin! 
II  faut  la  voir,  il  faut  1'entendre  — 

Ah,  gazouiller,  la  chere  enfant; 
Et  de  sa  voix  si  pure  et  si  tendre 

Chanter,  inviter  les  oiseaux! 
(Trill.)  Oh-ho!oh-ho!oh-ho!oh-ho!oh-ho!  .  .  . 
C'est  Isabelle  qui  vous  appelle! 

Venez  manger  petits  oiseaux! 
C'est  Isabelle  qui  vous  appelle! 

Venez  chanter  mes  chers  oiseaux!  ..." 

(Repeat  ad  lib.  to  end  during  Robert's  soliloquy.) 

MILTON  (smilingly):  At  that  time  you  staked  all  to  lose 
by  me. 

JOSEPHINE  :  And  now  you  have  all  but  won  for  me. 

MILTON  (raising  her  hands  to  his  lips) :  Heaven  realize 
my  hope  of  the  future  for  you ! 

JOSEPHINE:  Heaven  will  hear  you  tonight — And  when  you 
are  in  there,  —  (Points  Right)  —  think  —  think  con 
stantly,  so  it  may  guide  you,  that  you  hear  me  saying: 

MILTON:  What? 

JOSEPHINE  (looking  up  into  his  face) :  I  love  you,  Milton. 
As  much  as  you  should  like  to  be  loved  by  the  woman 
whom  you  loved  best  of  all. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  41 

MILTON  (his  arm  encircling  her  waist,  looking  down  fondly 
into  her  face) :  That  is  a  great  deal ! 

JOSEPHINE:  Far  less  still  than  I  love  you.  (With  playful 
coyness)  Is  it  still  insufficient? 

MILTON:  Nay!  But  more  than  I  can  ever  reward  you  for 
—  (He  draws  her  in  fond  embrace  —  not  kissing  her, 
their  heads  close  to  one  another  on  each  other's  shoulder.) 
(The  proximity  of  the  curtains,  Right  3  E  and  the  one 
masking  the  window  U.  R.,  creates  an  opportunity  for 
one  to  introduce  himself,  unperceived,  back  of  each 
drapery,  thereby  reaching  the  window  recess.  At  the 
precise  moment  when  Milton  silently  embraces  Josephine, 
the  spectators  become  aware  that  a  figure  is  slipping 
back  of  the  curtains,  till  it  eventually  reaches  the  window 
recess.  The  lovers  are  unaware  of  the  intrusion,  for 
the  purpose  of  eavesdropping.) 

(Parting  the  curtain  with  one  hand,  Right  3,  leading  her 
off  with  the  other.) 

Come!  .  .  .  (Exeunt  Right  3.) 

(A  pause,  during  which  the  song  continues  to  be  heard.) 
(Suddenly  Robert  Courtnay  comes  out  from  behind  the 
curtain  at  the  window.  He  comes  out  Left  of  it,  retaining 
hold  of  the  curtain,  his  eyes  riveted  upon  the  door  — 
Right  3.  A  sardonic  smile  is  on  his  lips.) 

ROBERT  (grimly) :  Ye  gods !  —  Can  the  devil  have  given 
me  a  spy  as  well  as  a  rival  to  deal  with? 
(Coming  down  stage.  Grimly)  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  If 
so  't  is  well.  (Sneaky)  I'll  satisfy  my  grudge  in  serving 
the  King!  (Plotting)  After  the  man's  out  of  the  way, 
lest  I  expose  her  for  abetting  an  enemy  of  His  Majesty, 
Josephine  will  be  most  amenable  —  for  her  mother's 
sake  then,  if  contrary  to  her  own  expectations.  (Look 
ing  toward  the  desk  cabinet,  going  to  same  and  examining, 
finding  nothing  of  any  use.)  I  wonder  to  whom  was  she 


42  SWORDS   DRAWN 

writing?    (Leaving   the   desk  cabinet)  I   must   contrive 
to  pay  a  little  visit  upstairs  to  her  secretary.    (He  pro 
ceeds  Left,  reflecting,  laughing  grimly)  H'n!  h'n!  h'n! 
h'n!  ...  a  pure-blooded  Frenchman,  eh? 
(End  of  Signora's  song  during  this  speech.) 
One  who  expresses  himself  crudely  in  our  presence,  — 
yet  can  speak  as  pure  English  as  I've  ever  heard.  .  .  . 
(Prolonged  applause  of  the  guests  after  the  song  —  then 
general  hum  of  conversation.) 

Sieur  d'Orsay,  eh?  H'n!  h'n!  —  Bah!  —  a  name  for 
the  circumstance!  I'll  unravel  this  mystery  though 
and  to-night,  my  shrewd  cousin  —  not  to-morrow !  .  .  . 
(Boisterous  laughter  is  heard  off  of  Sir  Richard  and  Sir 
Anthony,  as  they  come  along  the  corridor  leading  to 
Right  3.  Robert  mounts  U.  L.  C.,  then  as  they  enter  and 
come  down  he  Xes  up  stage  and  exits  Right  3,  unperceived 
by  them.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (as  he  enters  arm-in-arm  with  Sir  Richard, 
disengaging  his  own  and  proceeding  down  to  his  chair 
Right  of  chess  table) :  A  knavish  trick  —  a  knavish 
trick!  .  .  .  None  other  than  Sir  Richard  could  have 
thought  of  it! 

SIR  RICHARD  (above  chess  table,  filling  himself  a  goblet  of 
wine,  laughing) :  No  other  way  —  no  other  way,  Sir 
Anthony.  You  see :  a  bit  o'  scandal  is  all  engrossing  to 
some  old  women,  and  our  worse-halves  would  never 
have  allowed  us  to  return  to  our  little  chess  game,  had 
I  not  provided  them  with  something  preferable  to 
ourselves  to  peck  at! 

SIR  ANTHONY  (sighing  dolefully) :  Ah  —  what  a  pity  that 
women  do  not  grow  young  instead  of  old. 

SIR  RICHARD  (setting  two  goblets  on  the  table,  resuming  his 
chair  Left  of  table):  A  plague  on  you,  Sir  Anthony! 
Would  you  have  a  man,  who  married  a  lady  of  twenty, 


SWORDS   DRAWN  43 

have  a  wife,  at  thirty-and  nine  crawling  on  the  floor 
with  a  bib? 

SIR  ANTHONY  (smiling  broadly}:  Your  arithmetic  is  cer 
tainly  astounding. 

SIR  RICHARD  (holding  his  cup  before  his  lips,  starting  to 
giggle,  as  he  conceives  a  picture  of  his  friend  with  a  baby- 
wife)  :  Fancy  my  old  friend  Lovelace  —  in  his  night 
cap  and  bare  feet,  his  wife  in  his  arms,  cutting  her  teeth 
all  over  again!  (He  rocks  back  in  his  chair,  laughing 
boisterously.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (Grown  suddenly  serious) :  The  game  — 
the  game,  Sir  Richard !  I'm  in  the  mood  — 

SIR  RICHARD  :  'T  was  your  turn  to  play. 

SIR  ANTHONY:  In  truth  —  I  do  not  recognize  the 
board. 

SIR  RICHARD  (after  a  gulp  of  wine  —  again  giggling) : 
Fancy  yourself  in  the  gloaming,  each  night,  rocking 
Lady  Lovelace  to  sleep  —  (He  starts  to  rock  and  sing, 
mimicking)  "Do  —  do  —  do  —  do!  Fiddle-dee-dee \ 
Clo-s-se  yur  eyes,  my  darlint.  Fur  the  bogey-man's 
comin'  around.  ..."  (He  resumes  drinking,  chuckling.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (setting  his  own  untouched  cup  before  Sir 
Richard):  Here!  have  some  more  wine  to  make  you 
sober. 

(Sir  Richard  unceremoniously  accepts  it  and  passes  his 
own  empty  one  to  Sir  Anthony.) 

SIR  RICHARD  (raising  the  full  goblet  in  the  air) :  Drink ! 
Drink !  to  the  realization  of  your  wish,  my  bald-headed 
friend ! 

SIR  ANTHONY  (with  a  show  of  petty  temper  —  pushing  the 
empty  cup  away) :  Now,  pray  thee,  Sir  Richard  —  at 
least  —  at  least !  respect  my  grey  hair ! 

SIR  RICHARD:  If  you'll  prove  to  me  there's  any  left 
'neath  your  wig  to  inspire  such.  (Raising  his  goblet  in 


44  SWORDS   DRAWN 

the  air  —  his  voice  at  the  same  time}  Here's  to  the  fer 
tility  of  your  scalp ! 

(He  arrests  Sir  Anthony's  hand  in  mid-air,  who  is  in  the 
act  of  moving  a  pawn.} 
Look  out!   you're  playing  one  of  my  own  men — ! 

SIR  ANTHONY  (slightly     exasperated  —  shaking    his    wrist 
free,  A  trifle  peevish] :  It  all  comes  of  your  tittle-tattle ! 

SIR  RICHARD  :  It  all  comes  of  your  listening  too  much  and 
thinking  too  little! 

(He  drinks.    Sir  Anthony  picks  up  another  pawn,  holds 
it  in  mid-air  hesitatingly,  then  shaking  his  head,  sets  it 
back  where  it  was.    Sir   Richard,   observing   him  from 
across  the  rim  of  his  goblet,  giggles.) 
Like  a  cat  —  on  wet  ground  —  doesn't  dare  move  — 
(He  takes  a  gulp  of  wine  which  he  sicallows  with  difficulty. 
Then,  while  his  friend  does  his  utmost  to  concentrate  on 
the  game,  observing  him,  he  titters.) 
(With  good-natured  sarcasm)  Sir  Anthony  Love-lace  — 
Zounds  your  mother  must  have  had  a  vein  of  humor  to 
christen  a  Love-Zace  an  Anthony? 

SIR  ANTHONY  :  Pray  —  drink  if  you  will  —  but  leave  me 
and  the  women  alone! 

SIR  RICHARD:  Alone?  Not  if  I  can  ever  prevent  it - 
you  old  libertine! 

(Enter  LADY  DIGWIG,  followed  by  LADY  ANTHONY  from 
Right  3  E.) 

(Lady  Digwig  is  old  —  with  a  bull-dog  neck,  hard, 
stout,  and  short.  Lady  Anthony  is  old,  hard,  snappy  as 
a  snuff  box,  prim  and  thin. 

(Perceiving  their  husbands,  Lady  Digwig  advances  to 
Center.  Lady  Anthony  stops  half  way.  Neither  Sir 
Richard  nor  Sir  Anthony  are  aware  of  their  presence 
until  Lady  Digwig  speaks;  then  Sir  Anthony  ignores  his 
own  wife's  presence,  until,  in  turn,  she  addresses  him.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  45 

LADY  DIGWIG  (indignant  —  arching  her  brows) :  Sir  Rich 
ard  —  I  am  going !  (She  walks  to  above  Left  Center  and 
stops  to  wait  for  him.) 

SIR  RICHARD  (reverting  his  eyes  to  Sir  Anthony,  as  she  starts 
on  her  X,  speaking  under  his  breath) :  Oh,  Lord  —  why 
hast  Thou  punished  me  so!  (He  starts  slowly  to  rise.) 

SIR  ANTHONY  (with  head  bowed,  looking  at  Sir  Richard 
through  his  eyebrows) :  The  Lord  chasteneth  him  whom 
He  loveth. 
(Lady  Anthony  starts  to  the  Center.) 

SIR  RICHARD  (Pushing  his  chair  close  to  the  table  —  mut 
ters  back  to  Sir  A.):  Then — He  greatly  loveth  married 
men!  (He  starts  up.) 

LADY  ANTHONY  (snappily):  Sir  Anthony! 
(He  starts.) 
I  am  going  also!  .  .  . 

SIR  ANTHONY  (rising,  with  great  docility.) 
Ye-es,  my  love.  .  .  . 

(He  joins  his  wife.  The  four  start  toward  Left  3,  and 
walk  off,  like  a  funeral.) 

(As  they  disappear,  enter  Josephine  —  Right  3.  She  is 
brightly  excited.  She  goes  straight  to  the  bell-rope  U.  L. 
C.  and  pulls  it.  As  she  does  so  enters  Alice  from  Right 
3,  also  cheerfully  excited  —  both  meet.) 

ALICE:  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  it's  all  over!  I  feel  all  worn  out  — 
from  sheer  tension  —  watching  him ! 

JOSEPHINE:  You  behaved  splendidly! 

ALICE:  No,  I've  been  very  stupid  to  fear.  It's  positively 
amazing.  He's  so  master  of  himself.  Did  you  observe 
how  he  led  and  changed  the  conversation  at  wish? 

JOSEPHINE:  Milton  is  very  wonderful! 

ALICE   (embracing   her):   You   plucky   darling!   I've   not 
been  half  as  courageous  as  you  have  — 
(Enter  Milton  leisurely  Right  3;  the  instant  he  sees  that 


46 

only  the  two  women  are  there,  he  dashes  quickly  toward 
the  escritoire  of  the  desk  cabinet,  where  everything  is  in 
readiness.} 

MILTON  (jubilant — going  toward  the  escritoire) :  'Tis  done — 
(He  starts  to  write.) 

ALICE  and  JOSEPHINE  (almost  in  the  same  breath  —  both 
going  toward  him) : 

ALICE:  Well—? 

JOSEPHINE:  Tell  us  —  ? 

MILTON  (continuing  to  cipher  up  his  message  on  one  of  the 
parchment  pieces  of  paper) :  Thanks  to  Lady  Scarsdale's 
maneuvres  and  good  wine  — 

(Josephine  steps  to  Right  3,  to  watch  off  and  listen  at  the 
same  time.} 

Middleton  was  not  half  the  shrewd  man  I  deemed  him 
to  be.   Ran  into  my  net  as  innocently  as  a  fish! 
(Enter  Lucy  Left  3.) 
(Josephine  leaves  Right  3  and  Alice  takes  her  place.) 

LUCY:  You  rang  for  me,  Miss? 

JOSEPHINE:  Yes. 

(Then  to  Milton  who  is  folding  the  message.) 
I  answer  for  Lucy  as  for  myself! 

MILTON  (Xing  toward  Lucy) :  Oh,  Lucy  and  I  have  al 
ready  made  acquaintance.  (Remitting  her  the  mes 
sage)  You  will  find  Peter  • —  the  old  man  with  the  organ 
—  outside  the  gate.  To  his  query,  give  him  the  same 
pass-word  "Elves  do  I  seek"  -Tell  him  to  play,  the 
moment  he's  despatched  Languenoc  with  this  —  to 
inform  me. 

(She  takes  the  paper  and  tucks  it  inside  her  blouse.) 
(Josephine  raises  the  latch  from  the  park  door.) 

LUCY  (turning  to  go) :  Play  to  inform  you  —  yes. 

(She  exits.  Josephine  closes  the  door  and  opens  the  little 
grill  —  that  the  sound  of  Peter's  organ  may  be  heard.) 


47 

MILTON  (advancing  toward  Alice,  who  comes  to  meet  him) : 
At  last!  the  deed  is  done! 

(Josephine  starts  across  stage  to  assume  Alice's  place 
near  Right  3.} 

ALICE:  Oh,  I'm  so  happy  —  for  both  your  sakes!  (To 
Milton)  I've  been  a  horrid  coward  —  but  I  promise  to 
try  .  .  .  only,  you  must  depart  now;  I've  no  more 
pretext  to  offer  Lord  Russmore  to  remain  and  I  wish 
to  return  home  knowing  you  safely  away  from  here. 

MILTON:  Merely  time  to  bid  Lady  Scarsdale  and  Jose 
phine  farewell  —  and  I  will  go,  Alice. 

ALICE:  Thank  you! 

MILTON  (leading  her  down  stage') :  Dear,  dear  sister !  — 
You  little  realize  what  this  message  means  —  and  I'd 
fain  send  you  home  with  the  very  sense  of  conviction 
now  within  me  —  that  the  day  of  our  victory  is  now 
assured.  Think  of  it!  Free  to  visit  you  at  your  home 
to  renew  the  old  ties!  Tell  me  something  about  your 
self:  Your  boy;  he  is  now  over  five  years,  isn't  he? 
How  I  should  like  to  see  him!  to  perch  him  on  my 
shoulder  and  trot  him  along,  or  play  see-saw  - —  as  I 
used  to  do  with  you  once;  only,  then,  you  frequently 
suddenly  slipped  off  your  end  and  let  me  bump. 
(Alice  laughs  at  the  recollections.) 

JOSEPHINE  (cheerfully  approaching  them  from  Right  3): 
Your  husband  and  maman  are  coming  this  way. 

ALICE  (quickly  embracing  Milton) :  Good  night,  dear  — 
God  protect  you ! 

MILTON  (he  resumes  his  seat  Right  of  table) :  Shall  we  re 
sume  the  game? 

(Josephine  quickly  sits.  Alice  stands  above  table  watch 
ing  them.  At  this  moment,  as  it  were  to  warn  those  in 
the  room  of  their  approach  —  Lady  Scarsdale  laugh  off 
Right  3.) 


48  SWORDS   DRAWN 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (laughingly  —  coming  through  the  cor 
ridor  that  leads  to  Right  3} :  Ha !  ha !  ha !  And  judging 
from  all  this  gayety,  my  lord,  one  could  imagine  every 
soul  without  a  single  care?  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (as  he  appears  and  holds  the  curtain  aloft 
for  her  to  enter} :  In  sooth  —  when  the  times  are  so 
oppressive,  a  diversion  of  this  kind  is  singularly  re 
freshing  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (having  entered  and  taking  back  his  arm) : 
To  say  the  least  —  I  feared  it  would  be  in-apropos. 
(To  Josephine)  Again  at  the  chess-board?  (To  Lord 
Russmore)  My  daughter  is  insatiable. 

ALICE  (approaching  them) :  I  have  been  playing  chaperone. 

MILTON  (risen  —  politely} :  Mademoiselle  eeze  a  won 
derful  player. 

(Josephine  laughs.   He  picks  a  few  chess-men  lying  off 
the  board,  on  his  side.) 
Look!     I  have  none! 
(He  drops  them  on  the  table  again.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (Lady  Scarsdale  on  his  left  arm  —  offer 
ing  his  right  hand  genially  to  Milton) :  Good  night, 
Sieur  d'Orsay.  Let  us  have  the  pleasure  of  your  com 
pany  sometime. 

MILTON  (stepping  to  him  and  pressing  his  hand  warmly) : 
Eete  will  be  a  grreat  pleasure,  mee  Lord  Russmore. 

JOSEPHINE  (who  has  risen  and  approached  Alice,  address 
ing  Milton) :  Sieur  d'Orsay  —  it  is  your  turn  to  play : 
Will  you  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments? 
(Milton  bows.   Lord  Russmore  and  Lady  S.  start  for 
Left  3.) 

—  I  will  accompany  you  to  the  door,  Alice.   (She  takes 
her  arm.) 

(Lord  Russmore  and  Lady  Scarsdale  exeunt  Left  3.   Alice 
and  Josephine  start  to  follow,  but  the  moment  they  are 


SWORDS   DRAWN  49 

well  out  of  the  room,  Alice  stops  and  turns  to  Milton, 

speaking  to  him  cautiously,  hardly  above  a  whisper.) 
ALICE:  Do  not  come  to  our  house,  Milton! 
MILTON  (shaking  his  head  negatively.   Smiling):  Have  no 

fear,  sister. 

(Alice  starts  for  Left  3.) 
JOSEPHINE  (backing  toward  Alice  at  the  entrance  —  Left  3) : 

Stay  here.    I  shall  come  back  to  say  "good-night"  — 

the  instant  Alice  goes. 
MILTON:  Yes. 
JOSEPHINE  and  ALICE  (arm  in  arm  at  Left  3,  before  exiting 

—  whispering  happily  to  Milton,  one  after  the  other, 

Josephine  speaking  first) : 
JOSEPHINE  :  Au  revoir  — 
ALICE  :  Good  night  — 

(They  back  themselves  out  Left  3.) 
MILTON  (as  they  exit  thus) :  Good-night !  — 

(Suddenly  the  distant  sound  of  Peter's  organ  is  heard. 

Milton  shifts  his  eyes  toward  the  park  door  and  listens 

a  mere  instant.) 

(His  face  lighting  up  still  more  happily)  The  message  is 

now  on  its  way  to  William's  camp. 

(He  pushes  his  chair  close  to  the  chess  table  and  walks 

leisurely  toward  the  park  door.   He  opens  the  park  door 

after  unlocking  it  and  stepping  to  the  threshold,  stands 

still,  listening,  looking  into  the  night.) 

(Advancing  toward  the  park  door,  appears  Robert  Court- 
nay.) 
ROBERT  (ingratiatingly  —  approaching    the    threshold,   as 

Milton  backs  off  the  step  indoors) :  Good  evening,  Sieur 

d'Orsay. 

MILTON  (puzzled  for  a  second):  Mr.  —  Courtnay,  I  be 
lieve? 
ROBERT  (stepping  inside,  extending  Milton  his  hand) :  Yes. 


50  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(Retaining  Milton's  hand)  My  aunt  left  me  in  the 
drawing-room  to  supervise  the  entertainment;  it  ap 
peared  in  the  end  superfluous  —  so  I  decided  to  walk 
out  and  breathe  the  air. 

MILTON:  Yes? 

ROBERT:  I'm  most  hapy  to  find  you  alone.  I  have  been 
wishing  all  evening  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
(Saying  which  he  comes  leisurely  down  to  above  chess 
table  and  starts  to  fill  two  goblets)  but  unfortunately 
my  aunt  claimed  some  service  or  other  from  me  in 
cessantly. 

MILTON  (instinctively  suspicious  of  the  man  —  but  con 
cealing  this  feeling  under  a  suave  and  polite  demeanor, 
comes  down  leisurely):  Zat  eeze  vary  kind  from  you, 
Mr.  Courtnay.  I  was  waiting  'eere  for  Lady  Scarsdale 
to  return  for  to  say  goode  night. 

ROBERT:  Not  going  —  surely? 

MILTON  :  I  have  travel  far  to-day  — 

ROBERT  (indicating  the  clock):  Oh,  but  'tis  not  even 
eleven  yet.  (He  fills  the  second  goblet)  My  aunt  tells 
me  you  are  Lord  Argyle's  friend  —  I  have  the  deepest 
affection  for  him:  hence,  a  desire  to  become  yours, 
Sieur  d'Orsay. 

MILTON  (who  is  strolling  Left,  aside  to  himself):  What's 
his  motive?  (He  turns.  Pleasantly)  Mr.  Courtnay 
eeze  vary  kind. 

ROBERT  (offering  him  one  of  the  goblets) :  Come,  Monsieur 
—  let  us  drink  to  better  acquaintance.  Nothing  like 
a  sprinkle  of  wine  to  make  good-fellowship  ripen. 

MILTON  (who  has  accepted  the  goblet) :  Zee  English  gener- 
allee  cultivate  eete  wit'  ale. 

ROBERT:  Except  when  their  cellars  provide  a  better  bev 
erage.  (Right  of  chess  table)  You  play  chess,  Sieur 
d'Orsay? 


SWORDS   DRAWN  51 

MILTON:  A  leetle. 

ROBERT:  I'  faith  let  us  finish  this  game  and  measure  skill. 

(He  draws  his  chair  Right  of  table.} 
MILTON  (depositing  his  goblet,   untouched,  upon  the  table 

Left}:  I  fear  I  cannot    remain,   Monsieur  Courtnay: 

Lady  Scarsdale  — 
ROBERT  (sitting  down} :  Oh,  we  can  cease  when  she  returns. 

'Twill  take  no  more  than    three  moves.   Come,  be 

seated!    You  a  Frenchman,  /  an  Englishman.    By  my 

troth!   we'll  play  the  King's  fortunes  and  pitch  battle! 
MILTON:  Pardon — ("Pardon"  said    as    in   French}  ze 

King  of  France  eeze  a  friend  not  an  advarsaree? 
ROBERT  (bantering  all  through):  True!   the  title  fits  the 

Orange  Prince.   So  be  it  ! —  you'll  play  his  men  —  and 

we'll  make  this  game  one  of  prophecy. 
MILTON:  But  a  French  man  eeze  an  ally  —  an'  cannot 

'elp  de  Prince  to  — 
ROBERT:  Nay;  here 'tis  but  in  jest.   There!  I  move!  .  .  . 

(Milton  sits,  concealing  his  unwillingness  to  do  so)  And 

now,    the    better   your   play  —  the    more  ignominous 

Prince  William's  defeat! 

(Milton  studies  the  game  a  second,  then  he  quietly  moves 

a  pawn.} 

Ah  —  skillful    move!    (He    plays.}  Here,    then  —  for 

His   Consumptive   Highness  —  May   the   devil   take 

him! 

(Milton  shoots  a  rapid  glance  at  Robert,  then  lowering 

his  gaze  as  quickly,  he  moves  a  rook.) 

H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!       Clever!    (Studying  the  game  — 

grimly  smiling)  I' faith!    this  most  degenerated  Prince 

hath  enlisted  the  services  of  a  wondrous  tactician! 

(He  lifts  a  pawn,  holds  it  still  a  second  in  mid-air,  then 

brings  it  down  with  a  little  thud;  as  it  were  decisively 

attacking)  This,    then,    again  —  for    the   blackguard! 


52  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(Milton  remains  impassive,  now  and  then  surreptitiously 
observing  Courtnay,  endeavoring  to  read  his  mind.) 

MILTON  (relaxing  his  face  into  a  broad  smile  and  looking 
Robert  straight  in  the  face) :  Eete  was  a  feint,  Monsieur 
Courtnay. 

(He  moves  one  of  his  men  and  removes  one  of  Courtnay' 's. 
Robert  laughs  ironically;  Milton  laughs  good-naturedly.) 

ROBERT  :  True !  —  like  all  the  Prince's  maneuvres !  ( Then, 
suddenly,  leaning  forward  over  the  chess-board  with  a 
sardonic,  nagging  banter)  Six  men  yester-eve  called 
William  a  bastard  before  one  of  his  own  supporters  — 
and,  by  my  oath!  the  fellow  laughed  with  the  rest! 
(He  leans  back  laughingly.) 

MILTON  (quietly  —  composedly) :  Ze  fellow  was  a  coward, 
Monsieur  Courtnay. 

ROBERT:  But  think!   one  man  against  six! 

MILTON  (same  play):  Eete  does  not  mattare  —  one  man 
against  a  dozen. 

ROBERT  (playing  surprise):  What?  Would  you  have 
quarrelled  with  so  many? 

MILTON  (looking  him  straight  in  the  face,  but  refraining  to 
evince  any  open  antagonism  or  resentment  in  the  least): 
Eef  in  my  presence  and  of  my  King  —  foi  d'honneur, 
Mr.  Courtnay !  I  would  'ave  endure  a  thousand  deaths 
radther  than  swallow  dat  insult! 

ROBERT  (once  more  leaning  forward,  as  far  as  he  can  toward 
Milton  with  a  confidential  smile) :  Well,  then  —  since 
I  am  addressing  a  friend  and  no  foe  —  I  confess  't  was 
I  who  called  Prince  William  a  bastard! 
(The  sardonic  smile  expands  as  he  continues  to  look 
Milton  in  the  face  some  time  longer.   Milton  remains 
still  as  a  rock,  regarding  him  blankly.   Finally  Robert 
leans  back  laughing  boisterously.) 
H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n! 


SWORDS   DRAWN  53 

MILTON  (composedly,  as  if  nothing  were):  Eete  eeze 
Monsieur's  turn  for  to  play.  — 

ROBERT  (seated  nonchalantly  back  in  his  chair,  regarding 
Milton  with  the  same  grim  smile,  speaking  with  biting 
satire) :  Verily,  Monsieur  is  surpassingly  clever — What 
with  m'king  sorely  pressed  (Mere  indication  of  the 
index  toward  the  board)  and  mine  opponent  proof 
'gainst  all  device  —  the  Prince  hath  the  better  of  the 
argument.  (Rising)  Nay,  I' faith,  'tis  wasting  the 
hour!  Come,  Sieur  d'Orsay,  I've  a  better  sport  to  pro 
pose  for  the  settlement!  Drain  your  cup  in  a  toast 
with  me!  (He  raises  his  goblet.) 

To  the  fortunes  of  war  and  health  of  King  James  the 
Second ! 

(Milton  does  not  take  up  his  cup.) 
What?  .  .  .  Monsieur  hesitates? 

MILTON  :  I  do  not  wish  for  to  dis-oblige  —  but  a  French 
man  drinks  but  to  one  monarch  — 

ROBERT:  Oh,  but,  then,  Monsieur  is  not  French!   H'n! 
h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  (Haughtily  he  steps  away,  laughing  sati 
rically,  as  he  speaks  the  preceding  line.   He  turns  at  the 
end  of  same  to  surprise  Milton  looking  at  him  frowningly. 
He  continues  with  the  same  sneer)  Pray  deem  me  not 
so  your  dupe!  Nay  —  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!    (This  as  he 
approaches  the  table  again  and  picks  up  Milton's  goblet, 
extending  it  to  him)  And  yet,  forsooth,  if  Sieur  d'Orsay 
will  but  drink  the  toast  proposed  —  albeit,  I  shall  be 
lieve  that  he's  not  an  Orange  dog!      (Approaching  a 
step  to  him  with  the  goblet   still   extended)  Come,  Sir 
Knight !   prove  to  whom  your  allegiance !  .  .  . 
(Milton  folds  his  arms  and  regards  him  quietly.) 
Aha!  —  Sieur  d'Orsay  will  not  drink! 
(He  drops  the  cup  sharply  on  the  table.) 

MILTON  (dry,  deliberate,  and  in  a  firm  low  tone  of  voice) : 


54  SWORDS   DRAWN 

Enough  innuendoes,  Courtnay!  What  is  your  pur 
pose  ? 

ROBERT  (exultingly) :  Bravo !  —  At  last  Monsieur's  dis 
posed  to  cast  off  the  mask! 

MILTON  (same  firm,  low  voice  but  with  greater  stress): 
I  ask  what  is  your  purpose! 

ROBERT:  To  learn  your  true  identity  —  resolved  to  make 
you  confess  —  (lie  taps  the  hilt  of  his  sword)  by  the 
achievement  of  m'  sword  —  if  necessary !  — 

MILTON:  And  after  that? 

ROBERT:  I' faith!  methinks  I'll  take  your  head  to  the  king 
and  barter  it  for  his  favor.   He  exults  in  the  death  of  an 
Orangeman ! 
(Both  men  glare  at  each  other.) 

MILTON  :  Courtnay  —  you  may  rue  this  hour !  (Between 
his  teeth.) 

ROBERT  (meaningly) :  Let  him  who  outlives  it  judge! 
(He  bruskly  unsheathes  his  sword.) 

MILTON  (stepping  away  and  snatching  up  his  hat} :  Nay !  — 
I'll  begone!  (He  turns  to  X  toward  park  door.) 

ROBERT  (quickly  stepping  across  his  path):  Stay! 

(Milton  stops.  His  hat  in  his  left  hand  he  lays  his  right 
upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  Robert  continues  sneering 
sardonically.) 

Monsieur  risked  much  to  come  here  to  pay  his  court  to 
my  cousin  —  and  I  suspect  to  spy  as  well !  Now's  the 
reckoning!  Myself  determined  to  espouse  her,  I  wel 
come  the  pretext  which  Monsieur's  allegiance  to  Wil 
liam  furnishes  me  to  slay  him! 

MILTON  (coldly  —  retreating  before  Robert's  advance) : 
'T  will  not  be  easy  —  I  warn  you  — (He  unsheathes  his 
own  sword.) 

ROBERT  (stopping  short  a  moment,  leaning  forward,  bending 
his  sword  —  the  point  of  the  blade  resting  upon  the  floor  — 


SWORDS   DRAWN  55 

laughing  boastingly) :  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  Sieur 
d'Orsay  has  not  lived  in  London,  else  he'd  speak  less 
lightly  of  m'  sword!  (He  advances  again.} 

MILTON  (stepping  of  table  Center,  Robert  Left  of  it) :  Not 
in  a  lady's  house!  I'll  give  you  satisfaction  outside! 
(He  turns  to  go  toward  the  park  door}. 

ROBERT  (quickly    anticipating    him,    interposing    himself, 
running  up  to  the  park  door,  kicking  it  to  close  it,  imme 
diately  then  advancing,  facing  Milton  again) :  Nay !  — 
I  trust  you  not! 

(Here  he  kicks  the  door,  Milton  discards  his  hat  —  it 
falls  below  the  Center  table.  Robert  continues  to  speak, 
advancing  toward  Milton,  the  latter  engaging  his  blade 
and  retreating  diagonally  down  stage,  close  to  the  Right  of 
Center  table.} 
(The  following  dialogue  runs  through  the  ensuing  fight.} 

MILTON  (angered  at  the  suddenness  of  Robert's  attack — 
parrying  his  thrust}:  You're  forcing  this  upon  me, 
Courtnay ! 

ROBERT  :  'T  is  thus  we  urge  cowards  to  fight ! 

(Milton  has  caught  sight  of  the  park  door  being  shoved 
open  by  one  of  his  own  men  outside;  only  the  arm  of 
the  man  is  perceptible  and  it  as  quickly  withdraws  from 
sight.  Milton  breaks  into  a  soft  laugh.  He  thereupon 
endeavors  with  many  a  deviating  step  —  to  deceive 
Robert  as  to  his  intention  —  to  turn  him  around  and  him 
self  be  up  stage  to  back  toward  the  park  exit.} 
(Robert  makes  a  vicious  lunge  which  Milton  parries, 
stepping  aside  and  laughing  confidently.} 

ROBERT  :  Ah !  —  Wonders !  —  Sieur  d'Orsay  knows  how 
to  fence,  too! 

(Milton  backs  below  the  settee,  and  leads  him  up  stage 
back  of  same,  thus  gaining  his  point.  As  he  passes  back 
of  the  settee,  he  gathers  with  his  left  hand  the  silk  scarf 


56  SWORDS   DRAWN 

which  Josephine  placed  on  the  settee's  back  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  act  —  continuing  to  fight,  he  gathers  up  this 
scarf  into  a  big  bunch  in  his  hand.) 

MILTON:  More  schools  than  one! 

ROBERT:  Then  the  more  pretentious  fools! 

(By  this  time  Milton  has  started  to  back  across  stage  to 
Left  toward  the  park  door.  Robert,  quick  to  divine  his 
motive,  immediately  describes  a  circle  below  him,  so  as  to 
interpose  himself  again  —  only,  kept  on  the  alert  as  he  is 
fighting —  he  has  not  glanced  toward  the  door,  to  see  that 
it  is  partly  open.) 

(Starting  to  circle  below  Milton)  Nay !  —  Trickery  will 
not  avail  you!  You'll  remain  to  fight  and  to  confess 
your  full  purpose  here!  Come!  —  your  answer—  spy! 
(He  thrusts  wildly  at  Milton  who  is  driving  him  toward 
the  park  door.) 

Dog  of  Orange!  —  I'll  call  all  here  present  to  unloosen 
your  tongue  and  dispose  you  to  — 
(The  last  words  remain  unspoken;  by  the  lock-trick, — well 
known  to  wrestlers  —  making  use  of  the  scarf  all  in  a  bunch 
in  his  left  hand  —  Milton  pokes  that  hand  straight  to 
Robert's  face,  and  over  his  mouth.  —  Robert  raises  his 
free  left  hand  to  Milton's  chest,  in  order  to  push  him  away. 
—  Milton,  dropping  his  sword,  quickly  catches  hold  of 
this  hand  by  the  wrist,  brings  it  down,  causing  Robert's 
elbow  to  bend,  bringing  the  arm  back  of  Robert  —  now, 
with  the  arm  bent  in  this  way,  by  forcing  it  upward, 
Robert's  body  is  forced  gradually  to  wheel  about  —  Right. 
Meanwhile  Milton's  hand  that  covers  his  mouth  more  and 
more  encircles  his  head,  as  it  turns  around  —  Right.  As 
soon  as  Courtnay's  back  is  nearly  turned  to  him  —  Milton 
jerks  Robert's  head  backward,  and  shoving  him  forward, 
pins  him  prone  against  the  wall  Right  of  the  casement  of 
the  park  door.  This  is  done  in  lightning  style,  1,2,3,  4>  5. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  57 

MILTON  (as  he  dashes  the  hand  with  the  scarf  at  Courtnay's 
face):  By  heavens!  .  .  .(Then  as  he  pins  him  to  the 
wall)  Damn  you  —  for  this  witless  threat !  (Quickly 
calling,  intensely  under  his  breath  toward  the  park  open 
ing)  Bray  ton  —  Murray  —  Blondin !  .  .  . 

(Instantly  enter  the  room  — first  BRAYTON,  then  MUR 
RAY,  then  BLONDIN  in  rapid  succession  —  a  fourth  mem 
ber,  ROCK,  a  boyish-looking  lad  appears  and  remains  in 
front  of  the  threshold  —  Blondin  at  once  goes  to  the  can 
delabra  Right,  and  extinguishes  it  —  Rock  steps  indoors 
and  partly  closes  the  door.) 

(Brayton  is  a  burly  individual  —  after  the  swash 
buckler's  type.  Murray  is  thick-boned  —  broad  and  hard 
as  nails.  Blondin  is  thick-set  —  and  so-called  on  account 
of  his  light  hair  and  almost  whitish  eyebrows.  All  are 
rough  looking  and  determined.) 

(As  Brayton  easily  wrenches  the  sword  out  of  Robert's 
hand)  Is  there  likely  interference  out  there? 

MURRAY  :  Several  guests  have  come  out  —  (He  blows  the 
candles  —  Rock  partly  closes  the  door  —  as  above  de 
scribed.) 

BLONDIN  (taking  a  piece  of  twisted  leather  from  his  own 
girt) :  They're  roaming  about  the  moat ! 

MILTON  :  Murray  and  you  on  guard  here  at  the  doors  — 
Rock  outside! 

(Rock  disappears  outside,  partly  closing  the  door,  Blondin 
tosses  the  piece  of  twisted  leather  to  Brayton,  starts  for 
Left  3,  looks  off  and  remains  on  guard.  Brayton  tosses 
Robert's  sword  away  —  Murray  picks  it  up  and  starts  on 
his  way  to  Right  3,  where  he  looks  off  and  remains  on 
guard.) 

(To  Brayton,  while  both  descend  a  trifle  down  with 
Robert  between  them,  and  Brayton  starts  to  fasten  his 
hands  together  by  means  of  the  piece  of  twisted  leather). 


58  SWORDS   DRAWN 

But  for  this  expedient  —  the  knave  was  about  to  shout 
to  those  here! 

BLONDIN:  Why  have  interdicted  us  a  door,  till  you  called, 
master,  —  so  set  'tween  us  and  your  peril? 

BRAYTON:  Raphael  himself  couldn't  have  stood  out  there 
as  we  did  —  abiding  to  come  in  and  grapple  with  the 
devil? 

MURRAY  (at  Right  3) :  This  door  hath  a  key  —  He  ex 
hibits  the  key  —  inquiringly  for  instructions.} 

MILTON:  Make  her  fast. 

BLONDIN  (taking  off  his  neck-cloth  - —  tearing  off  a  thick  long 
strip  from  same  —  coming  to  Milton  and  giving  it  to 
him) :  Here's  for  a  gag,  Master.  (He  returns  to  Left  3.) 
(Robert  makes  a  sudden  lurch  forward  to  free  himself 
from  Milton's  hold.) 

BRAYTON  (grappling  with   him   while  Milton  retains  his 
hold) :  Aye  —  Merry  there  —  m'  lamb !  —  every    man 
his  turn  —  and  give  the  devil  his  dues !  .  .  . 
(They  start  to  gag  him. — ) 

BLONDIN:  A  cursed  loyalist!  —  we'll  carry  him  off  and 
hang  him! 

BRAYTON:  Marry  —  he  should  dangle,  Master! 

MURRAY  (having  locked  Right  3,  coming  down  to  the  settee — 
throwing  Robert's  sword  there  and  blowing  out  all  the 
candles,  from  the  candelabra  back  of  the  settee) :  We'll 
swing  him  up  here  in  the  park,  under  the  very  nose  of 
the  cursed  king's  minions  in  there!  — 

MILTON   (imposing    them    silence):     Nay!  —  Fellows - 
this  is  a  friend's  house !  — 

(He  turns  to  holding  on  to  Robert  —  while  Brayton  sloops 
and  fastens  his  ankles  together  with  a  bit  of  cord  taken 
from  his  girt.) 

You  hear,  Courtnay?  and  yet  I  would  fain  see  you 
live.  Because  your  blood's  kindred  to  theirs  whose 


SWORDS   DRAWN  59 

guest  I  am  —  in  that  measure  am  I  loath  to  see  you 
murdered  —  and  have  the  blood  of  their  kinsman  on 
my  hands. 

(Blondin  and  Murray  appear  disappointed.  Having 
blown  the  candles  —  Murray  goes  to  the  conservatory  en 
trance,  and  now  that  there  is  no  longer  light  back  of  him  — 
parts  the  curtains  sufficiently  to  observe  outside  —  through 
the  panes  of  glass  at  the  rear  of  the  conservatory,  off  Left. 
Milton,  meanwhile,  continuing  to  address  Robert.) 
But  mark  me  well  —  for  this ! 

(Erect,  while  Brayton  is  fastening  his  anldes  together  — 
looking  Milton  straight  in  the  eyes;  the  gag  between  his 
lips  and  fastened  back  of  his  head;  his  arms  fastened  back 
of  him.) 

'T  is  true  I  came  hither  bent  on  seeking  to  win  your 
cousin's  favour  —  true  I  am  not  French  —  I  am  Eng 
lish,  I  attest  —  but  if  you  think  there's  more  in  the 
deed  than  I've  declared  —  except  that  every  loyalist 
is  not  my  friend — and  you  dare  soever  involve  Lady 
or  Miss  Scarsdale  in  this  to  advance  your  own  suit; 
I  swear  before  God!  that  although  you  were  at  the 
earth's  furthest  end  —  I'd  seek  after  you  there  — 
then  I  should  not  spare  you,  Courtnay! 
(As  Brayton  rises,  he  addresses  the  men  —  the  latter 
acting  promptly  as  he  gives  the  orders) 
Everyone  now  withdraw !  —  to  horse !  One  of  you  out 
side  to  lead  me  to  mine !  Summon  Languenoc !  Alone 
I'll  take  charge  of  our  erring  knight! 
(Murray  brings  him  the  key  of  Right  3.  Blondin  opens 
the  park  door.  He  steps  outside  to  Rock  —  the  latter  is 
afterwards  seen  running  off  Left.  Murray  exits,  and 
Brayton  last.  Music  is  started  in  the  drawing-room;  very 
faintly,  this  time  only  the  harpsichord,  flute  and  harp. 
Only  the  small  candelabra  on  the  wine  table,  above  the 


60  SWORDS   DRAWN 

chess    table,  is  still  left  burning.     The  room  is  corre 
spondingly  dark.) 

MILTON  (While  the  men  make  their  exit,  starting  to  drag 
Robert  toward  the  conservatory  entrance) :  Come,  Court- 
nay  —  thou  wilt  rest  in  the  midst  o'  roses  .  .  .  May 
they  be  as  devoid  of  thorns  as  I  am  of  malice  toward 
thee!  (He  disappears  dragging  the  form  of  Courtnay 
through  the  curtains  in  semi-obscurity  of  the  room.) 
(By  this  time  all  the  men  are  outside  and  have  disappeared 
except  Brayton,  whose  shoulder  —  back  turned  to  the 
audience  —  is  still  perceptible,  outside  right  of  the  case 
ment  of  the  door.) 

(A   pause,   during  which  only  the  faint  strains  of  the 
music  reach  the  room.) 

BRAYTON  (Suddenly  stepping  forward,  in  full  view  of  the 
opening  —  addressing  someone  off  Left) :  Whom  do  you 
seek? 

LUCY  (appearing  in  view) :  Elves  do  I  seek. 

BRAYTON:  Pass!  (She  enters  simultaneously  as  Milton 
comes  out  of  the  conservatory.  He  approaches  her  near 
U.  L.  C.) 

MILTON  (with  a  gesture  for  her  not  to  speak):  Sh!  —  (Then 
cautiously  to  her  so  that  Robert  may  not  hear)  at  once 
go  to  Lady  Scarsdale.  (He  points  Left  3.)  Say  that 
her  nephew  having  threatened  exposure,  my  men  and 
I  have  garroted  him.  He  lies  there.  —  (He  points  the 
conservatory)  Say  that  they  must  pretend  to  know 
nought  of  this  affair.  To  both  I  am  still  Sieur  d'Orsay 
—  met  for  the  first  time.  Say  all  this  to  them,  then 
return  here.  —  It  were  best  that  no  one  but  you  should 
set  him  to  freedom.  Enter  there  —  as  it  were  by  acci 
dent  —  suggest  surprise  and  display  ignorance  of 
ought  thou  knowest  —  understand? 

LUCY:  Yes. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  61 

MILTON:  No  one  must  enter  this  room  till  he's  released. 
Here's  the  key  of  the  other  door.   Go  first. 

LUCY:  At  once.   (She  starts  for  Left  3.) 

MILTON  (stepping  to  her) :  And  —  pray  — 
(She  stops  and  turns.) 

To-morrow  morn,  one  of  the  men  will  be  by  the  postern 
gate  —  pass  him  word  that  all  is  well  —  (He  extends 
his  hand  to  her.)   I  thank  you,  Lucy  — 
(She  takes  his  hand  —  with  cheerful  appreciation  —  and 
nodding,  she  exits  Left  3.) 

(Milton  immediately  goes  after  his  hat  and  sword  — 
speaking  the  while,  his  eyes  toward  the  conservatory.) 
Mayhap  it  were  wiser  to  have  taken  him  along?  but 
nay;  his  fanaticism  had  provoked  such  as  accompany 
me  to  swing  him  in  mid-air  ere  daybreak ! 
(Clock  starts  to  chime  the  eleventh  hour.  Milton  steps 
above  the  center  table  and  blowing  a  few  more  lights  out, 
continues  uninterruptedly.)  Thou  wouldst  have  been 
too  much  a  charge,  Courtnay  —  As  'tis,  I'll  match  a 
better  strategy  and  woman's  wits  to  dispose  you  judge 
me  less  vindicatively  in  the  future.  — 
(Having  sheathed  his  sword,  on  the  way  to  make  his  exit, 
he  stops  in  a  line  with  Left  3  —  his  eyes  remain  a  second 
in  that  direction  —  his  thoughts  with  Alice  and  Jose 
phine.  The  clock  chimes  its  eleventh  stroke;  he  glances  at 
it  and  marches  to  the  threshold.  As  he  stands  in  the 
opening,  adjusting  his  hat  firmly  with  both  hands,  Bray- 
ton  passes  before  him  and  strolls  off  Left  —  a  slight  pause, 
and  Milton  follows  him  briskly.) 

(In  turn  the  curtains  of  the  conservatory  seem  to  be  mov 
ing  —  then,  finally  —  Robert,  standing  up  contrives  to 
slip  through  between  them  —  losing  his  balance,  he  reels 
against  the  Right  arch — carrying  the  curtain  fully  open  on 
that  side.  Moonlight  streams  into  the  room  through  this 


62  SWORDS   DRAWN 

opening;  also  through  the  open  park  door.  The  glow  of 
the  fire-place,  this  flood  of  moonlight  and  the  light  from 
the  couple  of  tapers  still  burning  on  the  center  table  con 
tribute  the  sole  lighting  of  the  room.) 
(After  reeling  against  the  frame  of  the  conservatory  Right, 
Robert  braces  himself  up  and  seeing  his  sword  on  the 
settee  —  manages  to  jump  forward  once  —  then,  by  means 
of  a  chair,  and  finally,  and  by  any  device,  reaches  the 
settee.  Taking  up  the  sword  with  both  hands  back  of  him 
he  succeeds  in  inserting  its  point  in  the  cord  that  holds 
his  feet  together  —  he  drives  the  point  into  the  floor  —  the 
cord  becomes  severed.  Dropping  his  sword  and  Xing 
the  stage,  tugging  at  the  fetters  at  his  wrists  —  his  gaze 
falls  upon  the  burning  candles.  He  goes  there  and  holding 
his  hands  up,  back  of  him,  lets  the  flame  of  the  candle 
lick  the  cord  —  until  it  ignites  it.  This  can  be  carried  out 
in  the  following  manner  —  While  in  the  conservatory  the 
knot  is  untied  and  both  ends  are  held  one  in  each  hand — 
an  additional  piece  of  fibre  —  easy  to  ignite  and  flame 
out  —  is  placed  in  one  of  the  hands.  This  piece  of  fibre 
once  ignited  — it  is  easy  for  Courtnay  to  free  his  hands. — 
Once  his  hands  are  free,  he  quickly  slips  off  the  gag  from 
his  head.  He  simultaneously  hears  the  door  open  Left  3, 
and  wheels  about.} 

{Enter  Lucy.   As  she  sees  his  form  in  the  semi-obscurity, 
she  gives  a  slight  ejaculation  of  fright.) 

LUCY  (after  partly  recovering  her  composure):  Who  is  it? 

ROBERT:  Robert  Courtnay.    (Then  composing  his  voice  — 
as  if  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  had  happened)  Where  is 
rny  cousin? 

LUCY  :  My  lady  has  gone  to  her  room,  sir  — 

ROBERT:  Pray  go  to  her  and  say  I  still  hope  she'll  come 
down  and  speak  with  Lord  Middleton  ere  he  leaves. 

LUCY  :  Yes,  sir.    (She  exits  quickly  Left  3.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  63 

ROBERT  :  I  will  watch  you  —  my  fair  cousin. —  (He  starts 
to  light  up  all  the  tapers  with  one  that  he  plucks  out  of  the 
candelabra  Center)  and  ferret  you  out,  d'Orsay !  (Stop 
ping  on  the  way  to  the  settee  to  light  the  candelabra  there — 
looking  at  the  gag  and  cord  in  his  left  hand  —  laughing 
bitterly t  with  injured  pride):  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  .  .  . 
Gad!  .  .  . 

(With  sardonic  laughter  he  starts  to  light  up  the  taper s 
Right  Center  —  slowly  the  curtain  descends.) 

CURTAIN 


ACT  II 


ACT  II 

THE  FOLLOWING  EVENING,  AT  LORD  RUSSMORE'S  HOUSE, 
IN  WEST  KENSINGTON 

Scene  —  THE  LAWN    IN    FRONT    OF    LORD    RUSSMORE'S 

HOUSE. 
Time  —  NEARLY  SEVEN  O'CLOCK  IN  THE  EVENING. 

At  Rise  of  Curtain:  Alice  is  discovered  —  wearing  a  rid 
ing-habit  of  plush,  or  velvet,  of  a  dry-leaf  green  color,  and 
a  large  hat,  with  an  ample  plume  gracefully  tilted  to  one 
side.  She  is  seated  in  a  rustic  arm-chair  Center,  her 
left  elbow  resting  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair,  idly  stirring 
up  the  fallen  leaves  at  her  feet  with  the  riding-whip  in  her 
hand. 

Lord  Russmore  is  standing  a  few  feet  away  from  her,  lean 
ing  nonchalantly  against  the  rustic  table  that  surrounds 
the  huge  tree  Left  Center,  smoking  his  long  pipe  and 
thoughtfully  observing  his  wife. 

Now  and  then,  throughout  the  scene,  a  few  leaves  flutter 
from  the  trees  to  the  ground. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  blowing  out  a  thin,  long  cloud  of 
smoke,  speaking  softly  —  the  tempo  at  the  start  of  the  act 
is  slow  and  quiet) :  Are  you  not  going  for  your  habitual 
ride,  Alice? 

ALICE  (turning  her  head  in  his  direction  an  instant  and 
smiling  graciously} :  No  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Are  you  expecting  anyone? 
(He  replaces  the  pipe  in  his  mouth.) 

ALICE  (shaking  her  head  negatively):  No,  m'lord —  (Then 


68 

rising  and  walking  slowly  toward  the  rustic  bench  Right 
Center,  striking  the  leaves  on  the  ground  with  her  whip  as 
she  walks}  Unless  Josephine,  who,  last  night,  said 
she  might  come. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  emptying  the  barrel  of  his  pipe 
against  the  palm  of  his  hand,  leaving  it  beside  the  jar  of 
tobacco,  on  the  rustic  table,  strolls  toward  her,  and  sits 
on  the  arm  of  the  rustic  chair  which  she  has  just  vacated, 
facing  her) :  Alice  —  do  you  know  I  have  been  seri 
ously  concerned  about  you  of  late? 

ALICE  (arching  her  brows  in  playful  surprise,  sitting  down 
on  the  rustic  bench) :  About  me,  m'lord? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Yes;  I  find  you  changed,  dear. 

ALICE  (smiling,  affecting  incredulity):  I — changed,  Hugo? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Perhaps  I  do  not  express  it  very  clearly. 
I  mean  that  at  times,  I  have  found  you  looking  — 
well:  so  depressed  —  then,  by  turn,  in  excellent  mood; 
and,  withal,  at  times,  exceedingly  nervous :  in  the  state 
such  as  you  are  to-night,  for  instance. 

ALICE  (smiling  and  attempting  to  remonstrate):  M'lord— 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (continuing  uninterrupted):  — You  al 
ways  assure  me  that  you  are  not  ill,  and  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  your  manner  betrays  unmistakable  symp 
toms  of  over-wrought  nerves. 

ALICE  (same  playful  manner):  Oh,  pray,  m'lord  —  cease. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (going  up  and  reclining  on  the  arm  of  the 
rustic  bench,  beside  her) :  Now  —  Alice  -  -  what  is  it, 
dear? 

ALICE  (affecting  unconcern,  smilingly  shaking  her  head,  look 
ing  down  on  the  ground  before  her) :  I'm  sure  the  ailment 
of  which  you  speak  exists  but  in  your  fancy,  m'lord — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  No,  it  does  not,  Alice.  I've  never 
wished  to  dwell  on  the  subject  before,  but  now  I'm  de 
termined  not  to  accept  an  evasion  for  an  answer.  There 


SWORDS   DRAWN  69 

must  be  some  reason  for  your  condition,  and  you  can 
give  it  to  me  if  you  wish  it. 

ALICE  (same  manner) :  Must  I? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Please.  —  This  week,  His  Majesty 
orders  me  away  to  Chichester  and  the  neighboring 
towns. 

ALICE  (with  a  show  of  surprise):  To  what  purpose,  my 
lord? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (smilingly,  with  semi-derision):  An  idle 
one :  To  study  the  situation  there  probably  from  the 
middle  of  this  week  on  to  the  following  Wednesday. 
(With  increasing  amusement)  This  in  order  that  His 
Majesty  may  hold  daily  sessions  of  his  Council,  mean 
while,  in  peace,  without  me. 

ALICE:  Sessions  of  the  Council  without  you? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Aye !  —  for  it  seems  my  bellicose  spirit 
might  oppose  the  negotiations  they  intend  to  pro 
mulgate.  —  The  pretext  does  not  deceive  me.  But 
the  King  commands,  and  I  shall  obey. —  However, 
enough  that  I  shall  fret  over  this,  and  I  wish  my  mind 
relieved  in  its  concern  for  you.  I  see  that  you  are  not 
well  —  and  I  want  to  know  the  reason. —  Won't  you 
confide  in  me? 

ALICE  (evasively) :  In  truth,  I  would  —  but  suppose  the 
reason  were  —  a  question  —  which  I  should  dread  to 
have  you  answer. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Then,  rely  upon  my  discretion  and  con 
sideration  to  answer. —  What  is  it,  Alice? 

ALICE  :  Well  —  (She  rises,  reflecting.  A  pause,  and  then, 
laughing  softly,  she  proceeds  down  stage,  away  from  him.) 
Ah  —  I'm  afraid  you  will  laugh  at  my  absurdity.  At 
times  I  almost  think  myself  stupid;  but  I  suppose  it's 
just  like  a  woman's  heart — (Aside,  as  she  moves  still 
further  away  —  /  must  again  mislead  him)  — 


70  SWORDS   DRAWN 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Well,  Alice? 

ALICE  (circling  back  toward  him) :  Promise  me  that  you 
shan't  laugh  — 

(He  shakes  his  head  negatively.) 
Well- 

(She  stands,  pausingly  beside  him  toying  with  the  lace  of 
his  collar.  Presently,  she  winds  one  arm  about  his 
shoulder  and  speaks,  as  it  were,  with  intense  feeling) 
-  Pledge  me  your  word  that  you  shan't  go  and  fight 
for  the  king  —  that  such  is  not  your  purpose  in  going 
to  Chichester  —  I've  been  dreading  to  hear  of  it  every 
day! 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (Regarding     her     with     astonishment  — 
rising):  Well —  !  upon  my  faith.    And  it  is  this? — 
Of  all  the  fancies!      (He  moves  away,  unable  to  repress 
his  laughter  —  then  he  faces  her  again)  And  you  have 
been  tormenting  yourself  with  such  notions?   Egad! 
if  it  were  anyone  but  you  saying  this,  I  should  sincerely 
believe  that  person  indulging  in  sarcasm. 

ALICE  (poutingly) :  There  —  you  see,  Hugo  —  I  knew 
you  would  laugh.  You  make  me  almost  regret  that 
I  told  you  —  except  that  you  have  not  reassured  me 
as  yet. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (coming  up  to  her  —  taking  her  hands. 
Speaking  with  amusement):  Well  —  be  this  the  cause: 
You  can  now  dispel  all  anxiety.  (He  finally  lets  go  her 
hands  and  clasps  his  own  behind  him,  speaking,  humor 
ously,  satirically.}  His  Majesty  will  not  let  me  depart 
neither  from  London,  nor  from  his  person;  except  when 
my  absence  becomes  desirable,  by  the  fact  that  I  might 
defeat  some  further  negotiations,  instituted  in  behalf  of 
peace.  .  .  .  Each  time  then,  I  shall  be  sent  on  to 
Chichester,  I  know,  but  during  the  war,  have  no  fear, 
my  destination  will  never  be  the  battle-ground — Never! 


SWORDS   DRAWN  71 

ALICE:  Oh,  I'm  so  relieved.  His  Majesty  is  such  a  sen 
sible  man! 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  quite  disagree  with  you. 
ALICE  (turning.    With  playful  remonstrance):  Oh,  m'lord 

—  lese  Majeste  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Oh!  as  to  his  good  sense,  I  agree  — 
Only  I  meant,  he  did  not  consult  — 

ALICE:  Your  own  poor  one? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  If  so  you  wish  to  call  it.  (Then  becoming 
thoughtful)  But  it  is  this,  Alice :  The  forced  inaction  of 
the  very  men  who  are  truly  devoted  to  him  and  have 
been  at  all  times  public  figures  by  his  side,  now  presents 
a  very  pitiable  and  demoralizing  spectacle  to  the  people 
who  had  faith  in  them.  Meanwhile,  William  is  gaining 
a  number  of  followers.  The  most  zealous  among  these 
employ  every  means  to  influence  the  weak:  circulating 
his  literature,  or  the  false  report  of  some  exploit.  Why, 
just  judge  from  this:  It  was  rumored  this  afternoon 
that  ten  thousand  of  the  King's  best  soldiers  had  sur 
rendered  to  William.  Ten  thousand  men  —  mark  me 
well  —  at  a  single  stroke.  Can  you  even  conceive  the 
possibility  of  it? 

ALICE  (who,  her  back  turned  to  him,  has  manifested  her  joy 
at  the  tidings  —  now  turning  composedly  and  facing 
him) :  But  —  supposing  the  report  were  true  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  Moving  away) : 
Utterly  impossible! 

(While  he  is  not  looking,  Alice  claps  her  hands  with 
childish  glee.  She  resumes  her  look  of  indifference  as  he 
turns  and  faces  her  again.) 

—  Nevertheless  —  incredible    though   it   was  —  there 
were  scores  who  believed  it.   Ah,  Alice,  would  that  I 
were  permitted  to  take  the  field  with  a  handful  of  the 
men  I  know  —  But  nay,  His  Majesty  enjoins  me  to 


72  SWORDS   DRAWN 

stay  near  him;  and  my  sword  must  dangle  at  my 
side  through  the  streets :  a  mere  toy  for  the  populace  to 
gape  at! 

ALICE  :  Oh  —  I  know  —  you  would  have  preferred  wield 
ing  it  instead  of  the  pen.  But  does  even  a  King's  favour 
justify  such  zeal,  m'  lord? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (who  has  been  strolling  about  with  growing 
animation) :  It  much  less  excuses  cowardice.  (Halt 
ing)  Think  of  it,  dear:  men  whom  he  has  befriended 
are  daily  deserting  his  standards  and  flocking  to  those 
of  the  Orange  Prince.  Could  I  still  entertain  one  single 
claim  to  your  respect  if  /  proved  as  base  as  they? 
Nay !  Consequently,  as  long  as  James  wields  England's 
sceptre  he  is  my  King  —  and,  as  such,  to  devote  my 
sword  to  his  service  appears  to  me  my  sacred  as  well  as 
my  imperative  duty !  —  In  fact,  the  only  duty  which 
does  not  admit  of  any  other  consideration  whatsoever! 
(His  words  convince  Alice  that  he  would  not  even  spare 
Milton.  —  Idly  strolling  toward  the  huge  tree,  she  turns 
in  front  of  the  rustic  table  —  Left  Center.) 

ALICE:  I  fear  that  a  woman's  heart  fails  to  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  the  word  "duty"  in  that  sense  and  to 
such  an  extent,  m'  lord.  (Her  voice  is  sad  —  gentle  and 
without  reproach.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (simply  and  with  kindness) :  Not  when 
you  stop  to  consider,  Alice,  how  deeply  indebted  I  am 
to  him.  Then,  too,  dear,  it  was  he  who  on  the  advent 
of  my  journey  to  France,  seven  years  ago,  where  I  had 
met  you,  granted  me  on  my  return  your  recall  from 
exile. 

ALICE:  That  was  only  partly  repairing  an  injustice, 
m'  lord.  I  cannot  love  the  King  the  more  for  that. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (realizing  his  error) :  Of  course  not  — 
you  couldn't  —  I  know  you  could  not  now,  on  any 


SWORDS   DRAWN  73 

account:  The  wrong  was  unfortunately  irreparable. 
But  what  I  really  wished  to  say,  for  my  part,  is  this: 
That  in  granting  me  the  favor  of  your  recall  —  in  that 
one  act  alone,  irrespective  of  all  others,  His  Majesty 
bestowed  upon  me  the  favor  which  I  still  value  most 
to  this  day :  the  possession  of  your  dear  self,  Alice  — 
the  best  and  gentlest  in  womankind !  —  For  we  have 
been  happy,  —  have  we  not?  — 

ALICE:  Oh,  yes;  we  have,  Hugo  —  (She  returns  his  ardour, 
leaning  against  him  and  pressing  the  hand  which  retains 
hers)  —  And  I  hope,  for  my  part,  you  are  never  dis 
enchanted,  m'lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (affectionately  —  drawing  her  closer  to 
him  and  laughing} :  Ho !  ho !  ho !  —  How  could  this  ever 
be!  .  .  . 

(At  that  precise  moment,  Henry,  the  five-year  old  son  of 
Lord  and  Lady  Russmore,  who  has  run  out  on  the  balcony 
over  the  portico,  speaks  to  his  father.  He  is  a  lovable 
little  fellow,  with  a  frank,  bright  face,  and  golden  hair. 
He  pokes  his  little  arms  through  the  bars  of  the  railing, 
extending  his  hands  as  he  speaks.) 

HENRY:  Papa  — 

(Mary,  his  governess  —  a  kindly,  matronly  woman  of 
fifty  —  comes  out  after  him.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Yes,  my  son  —  papa  will  go  in  in 
stantly. 

(Mary  leads  the  child  back  indoors.  Lord  Russmore 
starts  for  the  steps  to  the  house,  addressing  his  wife.) 
I  promised  our  son  to  teach  him  a  new  trick  with  his 
blocks.  Will  you  excuse  me,  dear? 

ALICE  (after  nodding  a  smiling  assent):  Are  you  going  to 
Whitehall  to-night? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (before  entering,  turning  at  the  top  of  the 
steps) :  Yes,  presently  —  But  I  am  first  to  inquire  at 


74  SWORDS   DRAWN 

Sir  Andrews  to  learn  definitely  where  his  Majesty  de 
sires  us  to  assemble. 
(He  enters  the  house.) 

(The  red  glow  of  the  setting  sun,  upon  the  trees  of  the 
park  Right,  and  the  garden  Left,  has  gradually  ere  this 
disappeared,  and  the  evening  shades  have  very  slowly  be 
gun  to  fall.) 

(Upon  Lord  Russmore's  exit,  a  belfry-bell  in  the  neigh 
borhood  begins  to  toll  seven  o'clock,  with  a  long,  dismal, 
reverberating  stroke.) 

(Alice,  meanwhile,  walks  meditatively  Left.) 
ALICE  (after  he  has  gone  in,  suddenly  raising  her  head,  speak 
ing  with  suppressed  delight) :  Ten  thousand  men  cap 
tured  by  William's  troops: 
(Second  stroke  of  the  Bell.) 

And  what  Hugo  proclaims  an  unlikely  feat  of  arms  is 
my  brother's  own  exploit! 
(Third  stroke  of  the  Bell) 

Oh,  I  begin  to  fear  I'm  turning  out  now  even  worse  a 
rebel 

(Fourth  stroke  of  the  Bell) 

than  I  was  before  my  marriage.  - — (She  approaches  the 
fenceD.  L.)  I  wonder  what  can  be  preventing  Josephine? 
(Fifth  stroke  of  Bell) 
She  said  she  would  come,  last  evening. 
(Sixth  stroke  of  the  Bell.) 
(Alice  looks  down  the  road,  toward  off  Right.) 
(Simultaneously  enter  Leyburn  and  two  other  men,  from 
along  the  road  L.  I.    They  proceed  across  the  stage  toward 
R.  I.,  without  remarking  her  presence:   the  wall  of   the 
garden  Left  shielding  her  from  sight,  as    they  come  on 
and  pass  toward  the  right.) 

(Alice  indifferently  observes  them  as  they  walk  at  an  even 
pace  along  the  roadway.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  75 

(Seventh  stroke  of  the  Bell  as  the  three  men  enter  L.  I.) 
(Leyburn  and  the  other  two  men  are  wrapped  in  long, 
trailing  black  cloaks  —  the  sombre  hats  partly  hiding  their 
features.} 

LEYBURN  (as  he  reaches  about  half  way  across,  walking 
down  stage  ahead  of  the  others,  pointing  ahead  to  them  in  the 
distance):  'T  is  called  the  "Cross-Road-Inn."  There'll 
be  eight  of  us  there!  —  (They  exit  off  R.  I.  E.) 

(As  they  cease  talking,  Alice  stops  looking  at  them,  and 
her  eyes  lifted  toward  the  house,  idly  mounts,  diagonally 
up  stage.) 

(A  mere  second  after  the  exit  of  the  three  men,  Peter 
appears  on  the  scene,  backing  on  from  R.  I.  E.,  looking 
after  the  three  retreating  figures,  his  cap  in  his  hands,  as  if 
he  had  but  extended  it  to  them  for  alms.  Peter  is  an  old 
man,  grey-reddish  haired,  and  carrying  a  small  barbaric 
pipe-organ  on  his  back.  He  stops  a  few  steps  away  from 
the  entrance,  and  then  quickly  reverts  his  eyes  toward 
the  house.  Upon  perceiving  Alice,  who  has  reached  about 
half  way  across  stage,  —  with  a  vitality  totally  unexpected 
in  one  seemingly  as  old,  he  approaches  the  fence  —  about 
D.  R.  C.) 

PETER  (leaning  over  the  rail  and  calling  in  low  suppressed 
tones) :  Your  ladyship  .  .  .  your  lady  — 
(Alice  turns  and  sees  him  half  motioning  a  letter  to  her.) 

ALICE  (instantly  coming  down  and  then  suddenly  recog 
nizing  him):  Peter!  .  .  .  Is  it  you? — 
(She  gives  a  cautious  glance  toward  the  house.   Her  voice, 
also  suppressed  and  low,  vibrates  with  gladness.) 

PETER:  Old  Pete  —  aye!  your  ladyship.  Your  old-time, 
faithful  servant,  turned  musician  for  the  nonce! 

ALICE:  And  in  such  disguise.  — 

PETER:  'T  is  the  dressing  of  the  part  I  play.  I  precede 
the  master  whither  he  goes,  reconnoitering  and  playing 


76  SWORDS   DRAWN 

on  my  instrument  to  indicate  to  him  that  the  way  or 
the  place  is  safe. 

ALICE:  Dear  old  Peter!  —  And  my  brother,  at  this  mo 
ment,  where  is  he? 

PETER  (nodding  off  Right):  At  the  "Cross-Road-Inn"  — 
I  bear  this  letter  from  Miss  Scarsdale  —  Begging  your 
ladyship's  leave,  she  is  the  bonniest  — 

ALICE:  Aye;  but,  Peter,  Lord  Russmore  is  indoors:  He 
mustn't  surprise  us  conversing. 

PETER  (swinging  his  instrument  upon  his  back) :  And  I 
may  not  tarry,  your  ladyship:  Whither  the  Master 
goes,  there  do  I  ever  precede  him,  and  wherever  he  is, 
there  must  I  be  on  the  lookout  — 

(Cap  in  hand  he  backs  away  to  Left,  and  raising  his  eyes, 
glancing  at  Heaven)  —  But  God  grant  the  old  days 
back  soon  again.  —  (He  turns  about,  putting  on  his  cap, 
and  proceeds  toward  L.  I.)  Good-night,  your  Ladyship 
.  .  .  (His  voice  is  low;  his  expression  is  happy.) 

ALICE  (very  softly,  wafting  the  words  after  him):  - 
Good-night!  .  .  .  (She  comes  to  the  left  of  the  gate-way 
Center,  at  the  railing  and  watches  him  off.)  —  To  think  of 
him  thus  accoutered  —  (Then  with  genuineness.)  The 
dear,  old  soul !  Such  as  he  always  lay  down  their  lives 
for  those  whom  they  love  and  serve.  —  (She  looks  after 
him  a  moment  longer  and  then  drops  her  eyes  to  the  letter 
which  she  has,  meanwhile,  mechanically  unsealed.  She 
gives  a  cautious  glance  toward  the  house,  before  reading  it.) 
"  Alice  —  I  am  going  to  meet  him  to-night,  at  the 
"Cross-Road-Inn."  Peter  is  escorting  me  there  with 
Lucy.  Afterwards,  I  will  immediately  come  to  your 
house,  and  I  shall  have  something  of  great  importance 
to  communicate  to  you.  He  leaves  London  to-night,  for 
several  days.  Wait  for  me  —  Josephine. "- 
(From  now  on,  the  stage  gradually  grows  darker.} 


SWORDS   DRAWN  77 

The  "Cross-Road-Inn"  —  If  I  only  dared: — 'tis  so 

near.  .  .  . 

(She  is  interrupted  in  her  deliberation  by  the  sound  of  her 

husband's  voice.) 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (coming  out  of  the  house  and  turning 

around  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  addressing  himself  to  his 

son  within) :  Good-night,  my  boy  — 

(As  he  turns  to  descend,  he  perceives  Alice  with  the  note 

still  in  her  hand.) 

Is  this  a  message  for  me? 
ALICE:  This?  —  Oh,  no!    (She  begins  quickly  to  tear  it; 

then,   at  the  same  time,   affecting  a  cheerful  manner) 

Er,  —  shall  I  expect  you  home  early?  — 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (placing  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  walk 
ing  slowly  toward  the  gate  D.  C.)    I  fear  it  will  again  be 

an    all-night    conference,  Alice.     I    would    therefore 

recommend  that  you  retire  early  and  not  wait  for  me. 

(Stopping  before  the  gate)  I  want  my  wife  to  become 

soon  her  real,  former  self  again.  — 

ALICE  (smilingly):  But  I  am  my  real  self ,  —  always, Hugo. 
LORD  RUSSMORE:  Oh,   no,  you  are  not.    Look  at  your 

nervous  fingers  tearing  up  this  paper.   Do  they  not 

indicate  a  serious  condition?  — 
ALICE  (crumpling  the  pieces  in  her  hand,  enforcing  herself 

to  laugh) :  I  fear  you  are  a  wretched  alarmist,  m'  lord. 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (scrutinizing   her  face,   with   affection): 

Ah,  fain  would  I  mistrust  my  eyes,  Alice.  — 
ALICE    (playfully,  slightly  drawing  away,   knowing  from 

the  nature  of  his  gaze  that  he  will  presently  kiss  her): 

You  can,  m'lord — else,  they'll  find  pretext  to  keep 

His  Majesty  waiting.  — 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (laughingly) :  Very   likely  —  (He   opens 

the  gate  Center.   He  then  steps  back  and  kisses  her.) 

Good-night!  .  .  . 

(He  swings  through  the  gate  and  starts  rapidly  Left.) 


78  SWORDS   DRAWN 

ALICE  :  Good-night !  — 

(He  raises  his  hat  to  her,  nodding  smilingly  in  response, 
as  he  is  about  to  walk  off  L.  I.,  down  the  roadway.} 

ALICE  (after  looking  in  his  direction  an  instant,  heaving  a 
sigh):  Ah,  what  would  I  not  give  to  be  able  to  trust 
him  with  the  simple  truth  — (She  reverts  her  eyes  to  the 
right  and  re-opens  the  gate  Center.)  The  "Cross-Road- 
Inn"  ...  I  wonder  if  I  dare  now  —  (Again  she  looks 
the  way  her  husband  departed  and  deliberates)  But  he 
said  he  would  not  return  till  morning  —  and  so  ... 
(As  she  once  more  turns  her  eyes  Right,  disposed  to  go, 
she  sees  Josephine  who  has  entered  R.  I.,  and  who,  after 
casting  a  furtive  glance  over  her  shoulder,  comes  rapidly 
to  her  in  a  state  of  panic.) 

JOSEPHINE:  Oh,  Alice!  —  Alice!  .  .  . 

ALICE  (to  her  encounter) :    Josephine  —  why,  dearie,  what 
is  it?  - 

(Josephine  passes  by  her  and  goes  rapidly  toward  the  Left 
of  stage  and  looks  off  a  second.) 

JOSEPHINE  :  Oh,  I  don't  know  — (She  comes  back  to  Alice  — 
they  meet  near  the  gateway  Center.)  Only  —  after  Peter 
had  left  us,  Lucy  and  I  went  toward  the  indicated  Inn 
-  We  found  a  score  of  men  about  to  surround  it.  Lucy, 
quick-witted,  ran  in  to  give  warning. —  Left  alone, 
I  became  terrified  and  came  hither,  hoping  still  to 
find  Peter:  he  must  alarm  the  men.  .  .  . 

ALICE:  He  went  away  after  giving  me  your  letter:  But 
then,  these  men,  whom  you  saw,  may  be  Milton's  own? 

JOSEPHINE:  Nay  —  I  heard  one  of  them  say:  "Dead  or 
alive  —  take  him!   he's  a  cursed  yellow  spy!" 

ALICE  (brusquely  facing  Right,  looking  in  the  direction  of  the 
Inn):  Oh!  ... 

JOSEPHINE:  What  can  we  do?  ... 

ALICE  (facing  her  and  quickly  entering  the  gate) :  Do?  — 


SWORDS   DRAWN  79 

(She  starts  toward  the  house}  Arm  ourselves  and  go  to 
his  aid  —  Even  represent  that  he's  Lord  Russmore's 
brother,  on  the  way,  if  necessary  to  gain  assistance! 
JOSEPHINE  (following  her  up  to  the  Center,  speaking  as 
Alice  exits  into  the  house) :  Ah,  make  haste,  Alice !  — 
(Then,  she  turns  about  and  comes  down  to  the  fence  rail 
again.)  —  Oh,  if  Robert  has  ought  to  do  with  this  am 
bush,  let  him  beware!  — 

(Three  shots  are  heard,  muffled,  and  in  the  distance,  in 
quick  succession.  Josephine  stifles  a  cry.  She  leans  over 
the  railing,  looking  off  —  Right,  in  suspense.  A  brief 
pause.) 

—  They've  begun  attack  on  the  Inn;  they  will  try  to 
force  an  entrance  .  .  .  Ah,  provided  he  can  only  hold 
out  till  we  reach  there  — 

(A  distant  clamor  is  heard  of  "Surrender,"  "In  the 
name  of  the  King  open, "  etc.) 

—  But  when  they've  battered  down  the  doors:  Oh,  may 
God  help  him  then!   If  this  be  Robert's  work,  he  will 
give  no  mercy  .  .  .  Oh,  why  does  n't  Alice  come !  .  .  . 
(The  light  in  Alice's  room  is  lit,  at  the  second  story,  near 
the  balcony.   As  Josephine  proceeds  quickly  toward  the 
house,  to  go  and  hasten  Alice;  as  she  reaches  the  foot  of 
the  steps,  a  single  shot  resounds,  in  the  nearer  vicinity 
than  the  three  former  ones.    The  light  in  Alice's  room  is 
simultaneously  put   out.   At   the  sound  of  the  report, 
Josephine  turns  about  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  stares 
Left  in  momentary  suspense.) 

That  report  was  nearer.  .  .  . 

(Coming  quickly  down  to  the  railing.)  Then,  he  must 

have  escaped  and  they  are  pursuing  him!  .  .  .  (On 

her  way  down,  she  turns  again  impatiently  toward  the 

house,  murmuring)  —  Alice.  .  .  . 

(Instantly,  while  her  back  is  thus  turned,  enters  from 


80  SWORDS   DRAWN 

R.  I.  E.  without  his  coat,  in  shirt  sleeves,  panting  for 

breath,  running  with  a    halting  step,  at  the  same  time 

delving  with  one  hand  into  the  opening  of  his  shirt  and 

extracting  a  package  of  papers  —  Milton  Lantenay.) 
MILTON  (his  sword  in  his  right  hand,  and  the  package  of 

documents  in  the  left,  his  eyes  upon  Josephine,  running 

to  the  Center  and  resting  one  hand  on  the  stone  post  of  the 

gateway,  calling  to  her  as  he  comes  on) :    Josephine  .  .  . 

Josephine  — 
JOSEPHINE  (turning    about    and    coming    down    to    him): 

Milton!  .  .  . 
MILTON  (half  faint,  supporting  himself  on  the  gate  post, 

speaking    brokenly} :  Conceal    these    papers  .  .  .  My 

life  —  they    may    take  —  But    these  .  .  .  they   must 

not!  .  .  . 
JOSEPHINE:  Oh,  Milton  —  are  you  hurt?  .  .  . 

(She  passes  out  of  the  gate.) 

MILTON  (clasping  his  right  arm  with  his  left) :  Nay  — 
JOSEPHINE  (on  the  instant,  catching  sight  of  Alice  coming 

out) :  Alice  — 
ALICE  (seeing  the  two  —  hurriedly  coming  down,  dropping 

the  two  pistols  on  the  rustic  table  on  the  way) :  Milton  — 

It  is  you  .  .  . 
MILTON  (raising  his  head  —  half  bitterly) :  Aye  — 

(Josephine  takes  a  few  steps  Right,  looking  off.) 
JOSEPHINE  (to  Alice) :  Hide  him,   Alice  —  I  hear   them 

coming  — 
ALICE  (taking  hold  of  him):  In  the  garden  —  quick!  — 

I  pledge  to  see  you  safe,  Milton.  .  .  . 
MILTON   (weak,  resisting,  apprehensively,  for    her   sake): 

Wait!  —  is  not  Lord  Russmore  home?  — 
ALICE  :  Nay  —  He's  away  for  the  night.  .  .  . 

(They  mount  toward  Left  2  E.) 
JOSEPHINE  (Resolutely,  to  herself) :  Oh,  I  will  warn  Alice 


SWORDS  DRAWN  81 

of  what  occurred  last  night  — (As  she  goes  to  extreme 
Right  to  watch)  She  must  be  put  on  her  guard  'gainst 
my  scurvy  cousin !  .  .  . 

MILTON  (to  Alice,  as  he  stands  near  the  entrance  to  the 
garden  Left  2) :  Josephine  has  my  papers  —  Save  them 
—  they  mean  everything  to  our  cause  —  I  ... 

JOSEPHINE  (leaving  her  position  and  coming  back  through 

the  gateway} :  Away,  Milton  —  I  see  them  coming.  .  .  . 

(Exit  Milton;  Alice  comes  down  instantly.) 

ALICE  (bringing  Josephine    down,   till    both  stand  in  the 
open  gateway) :  Now !  to  foil  them,  dearie  .  .  .  Do  as  I 
do  —  Look  the  way  he  went  and  turn  not  about ! 
(Josephine  imitates  Alice,  intently  looking  Left  down  the 
roadway;  Alice  standing  in  the  Center  of  the  gate  opening, 
Josephine  inside,  leaning  over  the  railing.) 
(They  have  barely  assumed  this  position,  when  the  tramp 
of  feet  announces  the  approach  of  the  pursuers.) 

ALICE  (cautiously,  under  her  breath) :  Don't  look,  dearie, 
save  this  way!  .  .  . 

(Leyburn,  at  the  head  of  several  men,  appears  R.  I.) 
(Moonlight  now  very  gradually  begins  to  light  up  the 
scene.)  (Upon  perceiving  the  forms  of  the  two  women, 
Leyburn  stops  abruptly  at  the  entrance,  and  spreads  his 
arms  cross-wise  to  arrest  the  others,  close  behind  him. 
Alice,  at  this  moment,  knowing  them  to  be  within  earshot, 
addresses  Josephine,  raising  her  voice  as  it  were  under 
excitement,  but  without  ceasing  to  look  Left.) 

(Oh,   't  is    surely  some    fugitive !  —  wounded.   No 
ticed  you?  .  .  . 

LEYBURN  :  Hark  ye !  't  is  the  right  track !  —  Follow  hence ! 
(The  men  all  start  rapidly  across;  some  armed  with 
swords,  others  with  muskets.) 

ALICE-JOSEPHINE  (at  the  sound  of  Leyburn 's  voice,  and 
the  men  starting  across  —  appearing  to  be  greatly  startled 


82  SWORDS   DRAWN 

—  stepping  back  with  alarm  as  they  pass;  Josephine 
taking  the  cue  from  Alice} :  Oh !  .  .  . 

(They  come  back  to  the  railing  as  the  men  disappear 
Left.) 

(A  pause  of  waiting  till  the  sound  of  their  feet  has  dimin 
ished.) 

JOSEPHINE  (clutching  Alice's  arm  as  the  latter  turns) :  Oh, 
Alice,  Alice  —  how  resourceful ! 

ALICE  (starting  up) :  Ah,  there  is  yet  a  possibility  of  their 
returning ! 

JOSEPHINE  :  I'll  keep  watch ! 

(Milton  simultaneously  comes  out  Left  2.  Alice  goes  to 
him.  The  stage  gradually  grows  lighter;  the  branches 
and  the  leaves  cast  their  shadows  in  the  moonlight.  On 
his  entrance  Left  2,  Milton  sways  toward  the  floral  ped 
estal  which  stands  in  line  with  the  garden  entrance,  a  few 
steps  away  from  it.  He  braces  his  right  arm,  fully  ex 
tended  against  the  flower-urn  on  top  of  the  pedestal.  He 
speaks  haltingly,  a  sort  of  nervous  titter,  at  times,  dividing 
his  sentences.) 

MILTON  :  Alice  —  I  had  no  intention  ...  of  coming  here 

—  I  took  what  way  I  could  —  I  shouldn't  have  risked 
involving  you.  .  .  . 

(He  compresses  his  right  arm  with  his  left;  his  sword  is 

still  in  his  right  hand)  Only  they'd  deprived  me  of 

the  use  —  of  my  arm.  .  .  . 
ALICE  (for  the  flrst  time  seeing  the  blood  that  stains  the 

white  sleeve) :  —  You  are  wounded  .  .  . 
MILTON:  The  shot  of  a  bad  marksman. 
JOSEPHINE  (leaving  her  position  by  the  railing,  and  coming 

up):  Oh,   Milton  —  This  is  dreadful!  — Is  he  badly 

hurt?  - 
ALICE:  Josephine,  dear,  you  mustn't  take  your  eyes  off 

the  road! 


SWORDS   DRAWN  83 

(Josephine  at  once  returns  to  her  post.   Alice  prepares  to 
tear  up  his  sleeve  as  far  as  the  elbow.) 
MILTON  :  Nothing  more  than  a  flesh  wound  —  I  think  — 

(He  tries  to  assist  Alice.) 

ALICE:  Nay,  let  me!   it's  bleeding  profusely,  and  you're 
weak  from  loss  of  blood  —  Support  yourself  on  me  — 
MILTON:  Nay,  I'll  rest  too  heavily  —  Wait.  .  .  . 

(He  steps  to  below  the  opening  —  Left  2,  and  braces  his 
left  arm,  fully  extended,  against  the  garden  wall,  Alice 
follows  him  there):  —  H'n!  H'n!  H'n!  H'n!  .  .  .  I'm 
mostly  weak  from  exertion.  .  .  .  First,  —  it  took  all 
my  strength  to  disarm  two  men  that  had  entered  the 
Inn  —  then,  all  the  speed  I  could  command  to  rush  out 
and  evade  the  rest  —  till  I  could  draw  the  pack  after 
me  ...  so  that  Lucy  .  .  .  should  escape  — 
JOSEPHINE:  Where  is  she  now,  Milton? 
MILTON:  Gone   to   inform   the   men.  .  .  .   They'd    but 
turned  in  and  gone  to  sleep  when  I  left  —  I  was  loath 
to  rouse  them  — 
ALICE  :  Watch  the  road  carefully,  dear,  either  way  —  lest 

they  appear. 

JOSEPHINE:  All  is  still  and  I  perceive  no  one. 
MILTON  (smiling  grimly) :  Bless  me,  your  house  is  the  least 
likely  harbour  —  where  either  friend  or  foe  will  think 
I've  taken  refuge.  .  .  .  However,  the  men  should  be 
notified;  the  security  of  my  papers  must  be  assured. 
They  comprise  the  full  record  of  my  mission  —  had 
they  fallen  into  their  hands,  a  number  of  lives  had 
paid  the  penalty. 
ALICE  :  The    instant    Lucy  comes,   Milton,  —  Josephine 

will  send  her  back  to  direct  your  men  hither. 
JOSEPHINE:  Oh,  Alice,  she'll  not  in  the  least  think  I've 
come  here;  she'll  surmise  I've  gone  straightways  home. 
MILTON:  And  tarrying  here,  the  while  I  stay,  you  both 


84  SWORDS   DRAWN 

incur  danger.  .  .  .  When  you've  finished  dressing  my 
arm,  Alice,  I  will  go. 

ALICE:  Nay,  that  you  shall  not  do.  —  In  your  present 
state,  why,  'twere  foolhardy;  you  shall  remain  here 
till  I  otherwise  so  decide. 

JOSEPHINE:  I,  myself,  will  go  and  apprise  his  men,  Alice. 

MILTON:  Nay,  Josephine,  stay  —  I  cannot  let  you  both 
assume  all  this  risk  — 

ALICE  :  Going  to  the  "Shallow-Brook-Tavern"  entails 
not  the  slightest  risk  to  anyone  else  but  you.  Yes,  go, 
dearie  —  but  through  the  other  gate :  (She  indicates 
Right  3.}  It's  the  shorter  way  —  right  between  the 
houses,  until  you  reach  the  road  at  the  rear:  the  "Tav 
ern"  is  a  short  distance  to  the  right.  — 

MILTON  :  Josephine,  I  beg  — 

ALICE:  Nay,  sir,  you  may  not  even  remonstrate. 

JOSEPHINE:  Here  are  the  documents;  'twere  best  you 
kept  them  now. 

(Alice  takes  the  packet.  Milton  takes  it  from  her.  Alice 
goes  down  to  the  railing  to  glance  down  the  road,  Right  and 
Left.} 

—  Rely  on  me  to  despatch  your  men  hither  —  Mean 
while,  Milton,  tell  Alice  why  you  assigned  me  rendez 
vous  to-night  —  I  may  not  return  here,  but  send  me 
immediate  word  of  your  safety  at  my  house. 
(She  moves  nearer  to  him.   He  lays  his  left  hand  upon  her 
shoulder  at  arm's  length.   Alice,  seeing  them  thus  occupied, 
raises  her  over  garment  and  tears  a  broad  strip  off  her 
petticoat.) 
Good  night  .  .  . 

(With  his  left  arm  Milton  gathers  her  close  to  him  and 
kisses  her.) 

MILTON:  God  bless  you!  .  .  .  (He  releases  her.) 

ALICE  (tearing   the   piece  from   her   petticoat   into   strips, 


SWORDS   DRAWN  85 

strolling  toward  the  angle,  where  the  fence-rail  and  the 
garden-wall  meet  Left}:  Come  over  here,  Milton  — 
(Josephine  moves  away  toward  Right  3  E.)  —  that  I 
may  attend  to  you  and  watch  at  the  same  time:  You 
will  keep  your  eyes  in  the  opposite  direction. 

JOSEPHINE  (turning  at  the  massive  gate  Right  3} :  Ah,  Alice, 
see  that  he  obeys  you! 

ALICE:  Have  no  fear,  dearie. 

JOSEPHINE  (as  she  passes  out  and  then  disappears  rapidly 
off  U.  R.):  Fare  you  will!  .  .  . 

MILTON  (who  has  not  moved  from  where  he  stood,  when  he 
and  Josephine  parted,  looking  after  her):  In  all  this 
world,  there  is  no  woman  that  I  can  compare  —  in 
courage  and  unselfishness  —  to  her;  .  .  .  (He  reverts 
his  eyes  toward  Alice)  —  and  to  you,  Alice,  who  made 
my  escape  possible. 

ALICE:  Don't  talk,  sir!  Raise  your  arm. 

MILTON  (raising  his  arm  and  at  the  same  time  casting  a 
glance  toward  the  house) :  Pray,  why  elect  to  stand  here 
in  full  view  of  the  house,  where  the  servants  perchance 
shall  espy  us? 

ALICE  :  The  servants  are  at  their  evening  meal  —  where 
you  may  see  the  light  shining  through  the  casement. 
(She  makes  a  slight  gesture,  indicating  the  house  beyond 
the  huge  iron  fence  Right.)  Here  we  can  better  watch 
for  your  men  to  come.  (Suddenly  brightening  up  at  the 
thought)  But  tell  me,  Milton;  about  His  Majesty's 
ten  thousand  soldiers  —  Lord  Russmore  said  it  was  a 
stupid  fabrication  —  and  I  could  hardly  repress  my 
utter  joy  at  the  tidings.  — 

MILTON  (as  she  begins  slowly  to  bandage  his  arm) :  There 
were  no  bounds  to  mine,  sister:  the  King's  Council  is 
in  a  rage  —  and  five  thousand  Louis  have  been  offered 
for  the  capture  of  him  who  sold,  as  't  is  believed,  th  2 


86  SWORDS   DRAWN 

information  to  William.  —  Alas,  Middleton,  so  then  in 
his  cups,  will  never  suspect  that  he  was  the  betrayer. 
-  To-night,  I  return  to  William's  camp  to  render  full 
account  of  my  mission;  and  I  go  convinced  that  every 
barrier  must  now  eventually  fall,  that's  set  athwart  the 
Prince's  on-coming. 

ALICE:  Ah,  Heaven  will  that  it  be  so!  (Then,  as  she  takes 
a  fresh  strip  from,  the  railing  of  the  fence)  And  why  was 
it  you  assigned  rendezvous  to  Josephine? 
(She  tears  the  strip  in  her  hands  into  narrower  ones,  to 
make  a  sort  of  taping  with  which  to  fasten  the  first  band 
age  securely  to  the  arm.} 

MILTON:  In  the  interest  of  your  happiness.  To-morrow, 
or  the  following  day,  Lord  Russmore  journeys  forth  to 
Chichester. 

ALICE  :  Yes  —  ? 

MILTON:  Returning  the  following  Wednesday,  his  arrival 
will  be  acted  upon  as  a  signal  by  a  number  of  William's 
supporters,  residing  in  London,  who,  on  the  evening  of 
Lord  Russmore's  return,  will,  under  some  pretext  or 
other,  gain  admittance  into  the  house  of  each  leader  of 
the  King's  faction.  They  will  set  upon  each  one  of 
these  men  and  have  them  deported  secretly  to  Wil 
liam's  camp. 

ALICE  :  Then,  you  mean  —  ? 

MILTON  :  That  by  such  means  —  the  King,  on  the  morrow, 
will  find  himself  isolated  and  at  the  mercy  of  his  Par 
liament.  Lord  Russmore,  Alice,  is  unfortunately 
among  those  designated  for  arrest. 

ALICE:  Oh,  Milton,  no!  ... 

MILTON:  Aye;  but  because  he  is  your  husband,  and  you 
love  him  —  I  give  you  assurance  no  harm  shall  come 
to  him. 

ALICE:  Oh,  but  you  surely  do  not  know  him.   He  would 


SWORDS   DRAWN  87 

never  give  himself  up:  to  his  last  breath  he  would 
fight! 

MILTON:  I  know  —  be  out-numbered  and  cut  to  pieces. 
But  I  intend  he  shall  run  no  such  peril. 

ALICE:  Oh,  then  you  know  a  way  to  prevent  it? 

MILTON:  Which  is  what  I  desired  Josephine  to  come  and 
explain :  —  Day  after  to-morrow,  upon  reaching  Wil 
liam's  camp,  I  shall  ask  him  for  some  writ,  bearing  his 
hand  and  seal,  protecting  Lord  Russmore  against  such 
an  attempt.  I  shall  afterwards  travel  North,  but  in 
ample  time  before  Lord  Russmore's  return,  on  my 
way  to  Reading;  I  will  come  through  London  again,  to 
deliver  you  this  document. 

ALICE  :  Thank  you  —  thank  you !  —  But  then,  why  should 
you  not  go  directly  to  these  men? 

MILTON:  Because  it  were  impossible  to  learn  accurately 
whom  they  are;  themselves  members  of  a  secret  order, 
their  selection  was  made  by  drawn  lots  —  and  even 
the  Prince  shall  not  know  to  whom  befell  the  several 
tasks.  Therefore,  his  mandatory  message  must  be  de 
livered  to  you,  and  yourself,  in  turn,  present  it  to  whom 
soever  shall  seek  admittance  on  that  evening :  In  short, 
next  Tuesday  afternoon,  at  about  3  o'clock,  I  shall 
present  myself  here  to  deliver  you  this  paper. 

ALICE:  But,  Milton,  what  if  Lord  Russmore  should  hap 
pen  to  return  a  day  earlier  from  Chichester? 

MILTON  :  It  matters  not,  since  he  has  invited  me  to  call  — 
but  it  matters  much  to  you,  and  everything  to  us: 
The  safeguarding  of  our  plot,  as  contained  in  the 
Prince's  order,  will  be  at  stake  —  and  that  William 
may  rest  assured  it  can  fall  into  no  other  hands  but 
yours,  I  must  perforce  pledge  him  to  come  here  in 
person  and  deliver  it.  — 

ALICE:  Ah,  indeed,  'tis  meet  that  you  should. 


88  SWORDS   DRAWN 

MILTON.  Under  these  conditions,  knowing  his  affection 
for  you,  I  can  promise  you  his  aid. 

ALICE:  Oh,  and  just  think!  you  are  striving  to  protect 
the  life  of  one  who  would  not  spare  yours,  came  you 
to  grief  in  the  discharge  of  your  own  duty  —  Oh,  it 
hurts  me  — 

MILTON  :  Nay,  —  (He  suddenly  draws  erect,  as  the  sound 
of  Peter's  instrument  is  heard  in  the  far  off  distance) 
Listen,  Alice!  ...  'T  is  Peter  playing:  --by  this 
means  he  speaks  to  me  and  the  men,  through  a  code  of 
airs. 

ALICE  (coming  well  down,  leaning  over  the  railing,  and  look 
ing  off  Left) :  What  does  it  signify,  Milton? 
(The  overture  of  an  air  changes  abruptly  to  another  air.) 

MILTON  (as  the  overture  ends) :  "I  am  watching. "  (Then, 
as  the  abrupt  change  to  another  air  occurs)  "Relief 
now  on  its  way. " 

ALICE:  He  means  your  men? 

MILTON  (turning  about  and  facing  Right  3,  through  which 
Josephine  went  to  apprise  them) :  Aye.  — 

ALICE  (mounting  toward  the  rustic  table,  glancing  toward  the 
servants'1  quarters  at  the  same  time,  picking  up  her  hat 
and  turning  to  him  again):  Come  you  then  into  the 
house  —  where  you  can  abide  till  they  'rive  —  and  I 
will  cleanse  the  blood  from  your  arm.  — 

MILTON  (going  toward  Right  3,  to  look  off —  U.  R.):  Nay, 
Alice,  lest  in  not  seeing  me  here,  they  go  elsewhere; 
conjecturing  that  I  am  gone.  —  But  stay !  — 
(The  instrument  in  the  distance  has  suddenly  changed 
air:  one  that  is  now  slow  and  weird.  Milton  steps  slightly 
back  toward  Center,  listening.) 

—  Peter  is  now  playing  "Conceal  yourself — Enemy." 
(He  feels  for  the  package  of  records,  mechanically,  and 
afterwards  takes  them  out,  from  within  the  opening  of 


SWORDS   DRAWN  89 

his  shirt.}  I  will  again  trust  these  unto  your  keeping  — 
(He  gives  them  to  her,  then  turns,  looking  around  Right) 
—  whilst,  hereabout,  I  seek  some  other  cover  —  both 
on  the  alert,  Alice,  till  the  men  come.  — 

ALICE  (doubtfully) :  Hereabouts,  —  nowhere  else  shall 
you  find  shelter  as  safe  as  in  the  house,  Milton,  — 
(She  darts  down  to  railing  and  looks  off  —  Right  and  Left. 
She  comes  up  again.)  —  that  I  may  provide  you  with 
a  coat  too:  disguised,  you  may  afterwards  speed  on 
your  way.  (As  she  comes  up)  But  in  the  state  you  are, 
your  pursuers  would  be  sure  to  recognize  you  — 
(Back  to  the  rustic  table,  as  she  picks  up  the  pistols  there.) 
—  Come  .  .  .  (She  starts  violently,  as  she  sees  the  dim 
form  of  someone  running  across  the  garden  offstage 
toward  Left  2  E.)  But  look  you!  —  (She  backs  toward 
him,  below  Center.) 

MILTON  (stepping  to  her) :  Where?  — 

(Peter's  music  continues  weirdly  all  this  time.) 
(Rustle  of  the  trees;  leaves  fall.) 

ALICE  (in  like,  subdued  tones) :  There !  —  there !  .  .  . 
(Backing  toward  him.,  as  she  reaches  him,  she  touches 
him  with  her  left  hand  and  levels  her  pistol  with  the  right.) 

MILTON  (advancing  Left,  above  her,  past  her) :  'T  is 
Rock.  .  .  . 

ALICE  (a  step  down,  addressing  Milton,  at  the  same  time 
aiming  at  Left  2  E.) :  Friend  or  foe? 

MILTON  (down  to  her) :  A  friend  —  Hold !  .  .  . 

(He  sets  his  hand  upon  her  wrist,  bringing  down  the 

pistol.) 

(Rock  is  a  lad  of  about  fourteen  years  of  age.   He  has  the 

appearance  of  a  rustic,  but  is  possessed  of  rare  keenness; 

he  is  fleet  as  an  arrow  and  agile  as  a  cat.) 

ROCK  (breathlessly,  off  Left  2):  Master!  .  .  .(Then  as  he 
passes  in,  through  Left  2.)  Master!  (Cap  in  hand, 


90  SWORDS   DRAWN 

past  the  flower-urn,  he  leans  upon  if)  Away  hence  with 
me !  else  be  ye  a-hiding. —  With  intent  o'  surrounding 
ye,  a  score  or  more  o'  cut-throats  o'errun  the  high 
ways.  .  .  . 

(He  simultaneously  darts  down  to  the  railing  to  glance 
off  Left.)  They  be  a  seekin'  for  ye!  .  .  . 

MILTON:  Where  are  the  men? 

ROCK  (twisting  around,  looking  Right,  then  coming  up) :  Mak 
ing  their  way  hither,  round  about,  this  side  o'  the  river, 
till  well  within  the  foe's  line:  taking  to  the  tree-tops, 
I  saw  them  as  I  passed  o'erhead.  Now  I  be  informing 
Peter  I  am  with  ye! —  (At  Left  2  he  gives  a  strident, 
prolonged  whistle,  off,  in  three  different  keys.) 

ALICE  (who  has  gone  down  to  the  railing  to  look  off,  as 
Rock  came  up,  — •  now,  in  turn,  coming  up  and  pro 
ceeding  toward  the  house,  speaking  whilst  Rock  signals 
Peter) :  I'll  go  first  indoors  to  prepare  for  your  com 
ing  in  — 

(She  pauses  a  mere  second  to  glance  toward  the  servants' 
quarters  off  U.  R.)  —  whilst  the  servants  are  still  at 
their  meal  —  to  elude  pursuit,  you  will  come  and  as 
sume  a  disguise.  — 
(She  enters.) 

(At  the  second  key  of  the  whistle,  Peter  abruptly  stops 
playing;  at  the  third  key,  he  starts  a  new  air.) 

ROCK:  Peter  be  now  a-telling  the  men.  —  (Rock  again 
runs  down  to  the  railing  to  look  off.) 

MILTON:  Is  Languenoc  with  them? 

ROCK:  Aye,  and  hath  vowed  to  eat  out  the  heart  of  him 
whose  pistol  sought  after  the  heart  o'  ye,  Master. 

MILTON:  Nay;  except  it  be  a  question  of  life,  let  no  one 
provoke  an  affray  at  this  house  and  thereby  compromise 
Lady  Russmore  — 

ROCK   (meanwhile    intently  looking  Left):    Master,   I   be 


SWORDS   DRAWN  91 

now  detecting  two  men  advancing;  one  with  a  lighted 
fagot-stick  examining  the  footprints  along  the  way. 

ALICE  (at  this  moment  coming  out,  coming  down  a  couple  of 
steps):  Come  in  now,  Milton;  All's  perfectly  safe. — 

MILTON:  Remain  you  here,  on  guard,  Rock  —  Give  signal 
when  the  men  have  arrived  and  we  can  all  depart. 
But,  above  all,  caution  them  to  hazard  no  fight  whilst 
here.  .  .  . 

(He  turns  toward  Alice,  and  mounts  up  as  far  as  the 
foot  of  the  steps)  Ah,  Alice,  I  trust  you  never  have 
cause  to  regret  your  solicitude  this  night;  I  should 
never  forgive  myself  for  having  ventured  hither, 
before  this  house  — 

ALICE  (pressing  the  package  of  his  records  between  both  her 
hands):  'Twas  purely  in  the  hope  of  saving  these, 
you  came  —  and  I  am  glad :  Come  in  — 
(She  takes  his  hand.  He  mounts  up  into  the  recess  of  the 
portico.  She  gives  a  glance  back  at  Rock,  watching  by 
the  railing,  then  enters,  closing  the  portico  door  after 
them.) 

(A  slight  pause,  then  Rock  slowly  backs  away  from  the 
railing,  diagonally  up  stage,  keeping  the  road  Left  in 
sight.) 

ROCK:  Marry,  if  the  man  with  the  fagot  stick  hath  a  mo 
tive  as  heinous  as  the  face  which  his  light  doth  show, 
't  were  well  to  learn  his  namesake  — 
(He  goes  over  to  the  entrance  Left  2,  looks  off  a  second 
then  darts  directly  toward  the  huge  tree  Left  Center,  quickly 
ascends  it  and  conceals  himself  high  in  the  foliage  — 
Several  leaves  fall  in  his  ascension,  then  all  is  still,  except 
for  the  music  of  Peter,  which,  still  in  the  far-off  distance, 
is  felt  sensibly  approaching.) 

(After  a  slight  pause,  Robert  Courtnay,  draped  in  a  long, 
sombre  cloak,  his  hat  so  adjusted  as  to  conceal  his  features, 


92  SWORDS   DRAWN 

appears,  stealthily,  quietly  L.  I.  He  comes  as  far  as  the 
corner  of  the  garden  wall,  and,  his  right  hand,  braced 
against  it,  peers  cautiously  around  at  the  house  and  in  the 
enclosure.  As  he  reaches  this  position,  Leyburn  follows 
him  on,  carrying  a  good  size  piece  of  branch,  ignited  in 
guise  of  a  torch.  He  carries  it  in  his  left  hand,  trailing  it, 
and  examining  the  ground.  Robert  extends  his  left  arm 
out  across  Leyburn' s  path,  as  he,  himself,  peers  around 
the  corner  of  the  wall.  Leyburn  rises  erect  and  holds  his 
fire-brand  aloof  Left.) 

ROBERT  (speaking  over  his  shoulder,  his  eyes  toward  the 
house,  addressing  Leyburn  in  modulated,  angry  tones, 
between  his  teeth):  Stay  where  them  art!  —  ne'er  a 
track  more  shalt  thou  find,  than  there  were  men  at 
thy  heels:  thou  and  they  are  a  pack  of  blunderers,  to 
have  even  let  him  suspect  thy  designs  ere  /  arrived  — 
much  less  have  attacked  him  — 

LEYBURN  (cringingly) :  But  'twas  that  he  was  alone,  and 
the  occasion  seemed  rarely  opportune.  — 

ROBERT  :  Aye,  how  much  so  —  thou  hast  convincing  proof 
now !  —  Put  out  thy  brand ! 
(Leyburn  stamps  out  the  fire  of  his  torch.) 
Where  didst  thou  last  lose  sight  of  him? 

LEYBURN  (indicating  over  Robert's  shoulder  toward  the 
bending  of  the  road  off  R.  I.) :  Around  yon  turning, 
Master  Courtnay. 

ROBERT:  And  her  ladyship  stood  where?  Proceed  to  show 
me. 

(The  casement  at  the  second  story  of  the  house,  near  the 
balcony,  becomes  suddenly  lighted,  and  an  undefined 
shadow  passes  across  the  drawn  blind.) 

LEYBURN  (coming  forward) :  In  yon  gateway.  — 

COURTNAY  (passing  him,  at  the  same  time  observing  the 
lighted  window.  Speaking  over  his  shoulder,  as  both  are 


SWORDS   DRAWN  93 

facing  Right] :  And  with  whom?  (He  advances  to  past 
the  Center  gateway,  so  as  to  keep  the  foliage  of  the  tree 
between  himself  and  the  window.} 

LEYBURN  (following  him  to  Left  of  the  gateway.  Meekly) : 
I  did  not  know.  — 

ROBERT  (who  is  now  facing  Left,  speaking  with  contempt 
uous  sarcasm  and  mimicry):  And  Lady  Russmore 
stood  here,  and  said  as  you  came  within  earshot  "  'T  is 
no  doubt  some  fugitive"  —  and  thou  didst  not  have 
the  wit  to  put  two  and  two  together:  that  if  she  saw 
him,  she  must  have  recognized  him,  and  if  recognized 
him :  sheltered  him  —  not  have  thus  been  musing  un 
concernedly  about  her  brother? 

LEYBURN  (exhibiting  surprise) :  Her  brother?  — 

ROBERT  (bending  over  the  railing  —  and  examining  the 
ground  for  an  indice) :  Aye:  my  cousin  hath  a  miniature 
of  him.  Determined  to  again  examine  it,  —  (He  looks 
steadily  at  the  window)  I  resigned  myself  to  wait  till 
she  left  the  house  with  her  mother  this  evening:  his 
name  was  full  written  across  the  back.  (Turning  to 
Leyburn,  who  has  followed  his  example,  and  is  examining 
around)  Thou  didst  serve  me  well  in  discovering  his 
whereabouts:  but  ill  in  not  notifying  me  sooner. 

LEYBURN  (pointing  to  the  post  Left  of  Center  gateway): 
Look  you,  Master  Courtnay !  — 

ROBERT:  Which  is  the  proof  of  my  reasoning:  the  print 
of  a  bleeding  hand.  He  was  wounded :  Lady  Russmore 
has  given  him  shelter. 

LEYBURN:  What  must  we  do,  Master  Courtnay? 

ROBERT:  That  is  the  problem:  If  Lord  Russmore's  in 
doors  and  is  cognizant  of  his  wife's  action,  we  cannot 
enter:  He  is  all-powerful  with  the  king,  and  I  will  risk 
to  compromise  with  no  man  for  this  spy!  We'll  there 
fore  seize  him  after  he  leaves.  Thou  hast  a  poor  wit, 


94  SWORDS   DRAWN 

Leyburn,  but  mark  me  well:  If  he  slip  through  thy 
fingers  again,  —  thy  brother,  now  in  prison,  may  rot 
in  his  cell  ere  I  raise  my  hand  to  secure  his  freedom. 

LEYBURN  (meekly):  Oh,  say  riot  so,  Master  Courtnay:  — 
I'll  do  my  very  best  to  serve  thee. 

ROBERT  :  See  to  it !  —  (Indicating  Left)  Bid  thy  men  crawl 
under  the  hedges  along  the  road  —  Post  two  men  at 
the  rear  of  this  house.  I  will  look  after  yonder  bridge. 
(He  suggests  off  Right.)  Thyself  station  where  thou  wilt; 
muster  more  men  if  thou  choose,  but  let  no  one,  leaving 
pass  unchallenged  —  See  to  it !  .  .  . 

LEYBURN  (who  has  started  already  to  back  off  Left) :  Aye 
at  once,  Master  Courtnay.  —  (So  saying,  he  turns  and 
disappears  Left.) 

(Robert  gives  a  glance  at  the  house,  as  he  wheels  about  to 
the  right,  at  the  same  time  mechanically  withdrawing  the 
gag  from  his  pocket  that  was  placed  on  him  the  previous 
evening.  His  pace  becomes  slower  as  he  looks  at  it.) 

ROBERT  (looking  at  the  gag,  dangling  in  his  left  hand): 
Egad!  I  swear  thou  wilt  wear  thine  own  gag,  Lante- 
nay!  —  h'n!  h'n!  (He  turns  facing  the  house  abruptly, 
as  he  reaches  the  end  of  the  railing  and  stands  half  con 
cealed  in  front  of  the  tall,  iron,  massive  fence,  clutching 
same  with  his  left  hand.)  I'll  stretch  such  a  cordon  about 
thee  —  that  even  thy  spirit  may  not  break  past  it !  .  .  . 
(Gloatingly)  Five  thousand  Louis  offered  for  thy  cap 
ture;  and  with  m'lord  Russmore  in  Chichester:  't  will 
be  an  easy  hanging  —  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  .  .  .  (Darkly 
drawing  erect,  exultant)  To-night  —  we  settle  score, 
Lantenay.  —  To-night!  .  .  (The  last  is  in  voice  that  is 
suppressed)  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  h'n!  .  .  .  (Laughing,  he 
turns  about  and  walks  off  rapidly  R.  I.) 
(Peter's  playing  in  the  distance,  now  stops.) 
(A  pause  after  Courtnay's  exit,  during  which  we  become 


SWORDS   DRAWN  95 

aware  that  Rock  is  shifting  his  position  in  the  tree, 
through  the  leaves  that  drop  from  same  to  the  ground. 
Suddenly  a  man  —  the  first  of  Milton's  body-guard  — 
appears,  halting  a  second  in  the  opening  Left  2,  looking 
in  the  direction  which  Robert  took.  At  a  glance,  making 
sure  he  is  gone,  he  steals  down  toward  the  railing,  along 
side  the  garden-wall,  to  observe.  Rock,  upon  perceiving 
him,  makes  a  brusk  movement  in  the  foliage  of  the  tree 
and  whistles  twice,  softly,  toward  the  lighted  window, 
where  he  has  seen  Lady  Russmore's  shadow  cast  against 
the  blind.  Hearing  the  familiar  whistle,  the  man  at  the 
railing  turns,  facing  up  stage  —  as  Rock  starts  to  tumble 
down  the  tree.  Simultaneously,  the  light  in  Alice's  room 
is  extinguished.) 

(Precisely  at  that  moment  when  Rock  tumbles  down  the 
tree,  Languenoc,  followed  by  Blondin  and  another  man, 
waft  into  sight,  through  Left  2.  The  last  man  to  enter 
runs  toward  Right  3  to  mount  guard  at  that  exit,  whilst 
Blondin  comes  in,  then  returns  to  Left  2,  likewise  to  watch.) 
(The  men  represent  for  the  most  part,  a  rough  and  uncouth 
appearance.  Nothing  in  their  attire  should  indicate  to 
which  faction  they  belong.  Languenoc,  Brayton,  Murray 
and  Blondin  bear  a  closer  resemblance  to  the  swashbuckler 
type.  Languenoc  is  a  trifle  less  rough  looking  than  the 
others,  but  all  give  the  impression  of  leading  a  hard,  ruth 
less  life.  Brayton  is  a  powerful,  burly-looking  individual; 
Murray  is  querulous  and  wiry;  Blondin  is  thick-set  and 
blond.) 

LANGUENOC  (recognizing  Rock,  even  ere  he  passes  through 
Left  2) :  Lad!  —  Whe  -  re  is  he?  ... 
(The  man  already  at  the  railing,  now  turns  facing  the  road 
and  looks  off  Right  and  Left.) 

(Care  should  be  exercised  in  subduing  the  voice,  yet  without 
decreasing  its  intensity.) 


96  SWORDS   DRAWN 

ROCK  (as  he  tumbles  down  and  prepares  to  start  toward  the 

railing) :     Where   the   light   hath    gone   out,    in   yon 

chamber  — 

(He  starts  down,  when  he  is  halted  by  Brayton  who  wafts 

in  through  Right  3,  followed  by  two  other  men.) 
BRAYTON  (low,  tremulous,  immense  voice;  the  moment  he 

sees  Rock,   as   he  bursts  in) :  Whe-re  —  be  he  in  hid 
ing?  .   .    . 
ROCK  (pausing  on  his  course  just  long  enough  to  indicate 

window):  Where  yon  casement  opens!    (He  proceeds 

D.  R.  to  watch.) 
BLONDIN  (at  this  point,  addressing  those  up  stage,  in  low, 

nocturnal  tones) :  All's  well  .  .  . 

(Milton  simultaneously  appears  in  the  casement  of  the 

darkened  room.) 
LANGUENOC  :  Master  —  come  ye  down :   We'll  wedge  our 

way  through,  though  the  fiends  o'  hell  contended !  — 
MILTON:  Hold  —  Where  is  Miss  Scarsdale? 
BLONDIN  (stepping  forward  from  the  entrance  Left  2) :  With 

her  maid,  safe,  at  the  Tavern. 

BRAYTON:  Master,  I  rankle  with  fire  and  brimstone;  un 
leash  me  against  the  scullions! 

(Murray  has  wafted  in  Right  3,  followed  by  two  more 

men.) 

MURRAY  (standing  below  left  of  the  stoop) :  Aye !  and  to  me 
- 1    pri'  thee    allot  —  two  scores   o'  their   heads   to 

cr-r-r-r-r-op ! 
MILTON  :  Nay,  't  were  much  time  lost  and  little  gained 

i'  the  onslaught  —  a  mettle  on  your  prowess,  till  I  and 

you  are  away  from  here. 
BRAYTON  (coming  down  stage.   Disconsolate,   and  in  low 

sepulchral  tones) :  —  And  I  who'd    hoped    to  heap  a 

monument  to  the  king  with  their  carcasses  — 

(He  looks  fiercely  about.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  97 

MILTON:  Languenoc  —  see  that  Miss  Scarsdale  is  safely 
conducted  home.  Have  my  horse  brought  to  the  rear: 
We  meet  at  the  "Quadrangle"  to-night!  Order  the 
men  under  covert.  Unless  provoked  to  it,  nary  a  sign 
o'  life!  I  shall  come  down  presently.  (He  closes  the 
window ',  draws  down  the  blind,  and  the  light  is  again  made 
in  the  room.) 

LANGUENOC  (stepping  down  to  Center):  Harken  to  me, 
Fellows!  False  is  he  to  his  oath  who  conforms  not  to 
my  dictates  —  Rock,  attend  to  the  master's  horse ! 
Crompton,  hence  to  Mistress  Scarsdale.  Brayton  — 
Murray  —  to  the  rear  to  seize  the  two  men  they  pro 
pose  to  station  there !  —  (He  goes  down  to  the  railing,  as 
one  of  the  men  on  guard  at  the  angle  of  the  wall  and  railing 
signals  to  him,  indicating  that  he  distinguishes  someone 
in  the  distance  off  Left.) 

BRAYTON  (starting  for  Right  3,  followed  by  Murray): 
Marry  —  that  pleases  me :  —  't  is  inaction  I  despise 
mostly.  .  .  . 

LANGUENOC  (after  cautiously  glancing  off  Left,  coming  up 
again):  Half  o'  ye  in  yon    garden;    (Points  Left  2.) 
—  your  eyes  and  ears  open  —  but  nary  a  sign.   The 
rest  o'  ye  over  there!    (He  points  Right  3.) 

BLONDIN  (leaving  the  angle  —  Left  Xing  toward  Right  3, 
as  he  passes  Languenoc,  motioning  Left):  Two  of 
'em.  .  .  . 

(Languenoc  looks  the  way  Blondin  motions.  All  make 
their  exit,  he  alone  is  left.  He  glances  at  the  window 
again,  then  reverting  his  eyes  Left,  once  more,  keeping  his 
gaze  in  that  direction,  he  slowly  makes  for  Right  3.  He 
exits,  drawing  the  massive  gate  almost  closed  after  him; 
he  hides  back  of  the  iron  post.) 

(The  disposition  of  the  men  has  been  effected  rapidly; 
the  men  acting  while  the  next  order  is  given.  The  instant 


98  SWORDS   DRAWN 

the  order  was  given,  Rock  darted  across  the  lawn,  and 
disappeared  off  Right  3;  Crompton  also  exits  Right  3; 
Murray  and  Brayton  exit  Left  2;  One  half  of  the  men 
exit  Left  2;  Blondin  and  the  rest  Right  3.  All  become 
hidden,  and  there's  nary  a  sign  of  life.) 
(As  the  last  two  divisions  made  their  exit,  the  night  breeze 
again  stirs  the  tree  —  softly,  and  leaves  drop  to  the  ground 
all  through  the  successive  silence  and  pause.) 
(After  a  slight  pause,  Lord  Russmore  and  Sir  Andrews 
enter  upon  the  scene  from  Left  I.  Both  walk  slowly  on, 
at  an  even  pace,  their  eyes  cast  to  the  ground,  their  hands 
clasped  behind  their  back  —  except  Sir  Andrews,  who 
supports  himself  upon  a  short,  heavy  cane  —  apparently 
both  lost  in  deep  reflection.  Sir  Andrews  is  a  patriarchal 
looking  man,  with  thick  locks  of  curly,  gray  white  hair. 
Both  advance  in  this  manner,  until  Lord  Russmore 
glances  up  toward  the  house  and  rests  his  hand  upon  the 
gate  Center.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  had  informed  my  wife  I  should  re 
main  away  all  night:  I  could  not  foresee  His  Majesty's 
indisposition.  — 

SIR  ANDREWS  (halting  past  Lord  Russmore,  turning  and 
raising  his  head  from  the  ground) :  Verily,  this  constant 
nose  bleeding  of  His  Majesty  greatly  alarms  me. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Ah,  if  His  Majesty  would  only  permit 
us  to  act;  —  methinks  his  health  would  soon  improve, 
through  a  goodly  measure  of  our  acts. 
(He  parts  the  gate  open)  Will  you  not  rest  a  moment 
and  smoke  a  pipe,  Sir  Andrews? 

SIR  ANDREWS  :  No,  thank  ye,  my  lord  —  I  am  going 
straight  ways  to  bed  —  't  is  so  seldom  we  can,  these 
days  —  (Raising  his  cane  and  pointing  off  Left)  I  still 
perceive  the  knave  loitering  on  the  road,  who  so  in 
spected  us. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  99 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  liked  not  his  looks.   I  will  ask  his 

reasons,  if  he  comes  by. 

SIR  ANDREWS  (turning    about   and   going   Right):  Good 
night,  my  lord.  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (touching  his  hat  in  response  —  entering 
the  gateway) :  Good-night,  Sir  Andrews  — 
(Sir  Andrews  proceeds  Right,  and  exits.  Lord  Russmore 
proceeds  toward  the  rustic  table  that  surrounds  the  tree, 
looking  up  at  the  lighted  window.  As  he  about  reaches 
the  rustic  table,  the  window's  light  goes  out  suddenly.) 
H'n!  Alice  shall  be  agreeably  surprised  to  see  me  re 
turned  so  early. 

(On  reaching  the  table,  he  picks  up  his  pipe  and  starts 
to  light  it.) 

(As  Lord  Russmore  now  stands,  facing  down  stage, 
lighting  his  pipe,  Languenoc  slowly,  slightly  pushes  the 
iron  gate  Right  3,  open,  pistol  in  hand,  ready  to  aim  at 
Lord  Russmore,  and  forbid  him  to  enter  the  house.  How 
ever,  Lord  Russmore,  after  lighting  his  pipe,  slowly 
strolls  down  to  the  railing  again  to  look  off  —  Left,  in  the 
distance,  after  the  man  that  is  lurking  there.  He  stands 
so  that  the  huge  tree  Left  Center  is  directly  placed  between 
him  and  the  portico,  at  the  top  of  the  steps.  Standing  by 
the  railing,  Lord  Russmore,  smoking  tranquilly,  blows 
out  two  long  trails  of  smoke.  At  the  second  puff  of  smoke, 
the  door  of  the  portico  cautiously  opened,  and  from  the 
shadow  within,  Alice  looks  out.) 

ALICE  (failing  to  see  her  husband,  turning  to  the  inner  door) : 
Come  out  now  —  Everything's  quiet.  — 
(Milton  steps  out  of  the  house  into  the  portico,  his  back 
barely  inside  the  threshold  of  the  outer  door  as  he  turns 
around  to  his  sister.   He  wears  a  long  black  cape,  and  is 
carefully  muffled  in  its  high  collar.) 
(At  the  sound  of  his  wife's  hushed  tone  of  voice,  Lord 


100  SWORDS   DRAWN 

Russmore  slowly  removes  the  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
his  head  slowly  turns  around.  The  forms  of  Alice  and 
Milton  are  only  half  discernible  within  the  portico.  As 
Alice  spoke,  Languenoc  passed  his  hand  through  the  iron 
bars  of  the  gate,  levelling  his  pistol  at  Lord  Russmore. 

MILTON  (as  he  steps  below  Alice,  within  the  portico;  speaking 
even  before  Lord  Russmore  has  fully  turned  his  head 
around):  God  bless  you  for  your  love;  and  till  you 
behold  me  here  again  next  Tuesday  at  three  o'clock,  be 
of  good  cheer  — (He  backs  out,  drawing  the  door  closed 
after  him,  saying  reverently)  Good-night !  — 

LANGUENOC  (the  instant  Milton  appears  outside,  uttering 
a  warning  call,  hissing  the  sound  more  than  voicing  it) : 
Master!  .  .  .  (He  at  the  same  time  opens  wide  the  gate.) 
(At  his  appearance,  Lord  Russmore  remains  rooted 
where  he  stands  —  At  Languenoc's  warning  call,  he  takes 
a  step  back,  unsheathing  his  sword.) 
(Milton,  upon  hearing  Languenoc's  call  and  seeing  him 
push  open  the  gate  for  his  egress,  without  waiting  to 
ascertain  the  cause,  leaps  off  the  Right  of  the  steps  and 
passes  through.  Lord  Russmore,  nonplussed  for  the  in 
stant,  the  next  moment  dashes  up  toward  Right  3.  The 
gate  quickly  slams  back  and  the  iron  rod,  on  the  other  side, 
is  shot  into  place,  locking  it.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  one  futile  effort  to  open  it) :  Cursed 
be  the  bolt!!  .  .  .  (He  drops  his  sword  and,  hoisting 
himself  on  the  tip  of  his  toes,  passing  both  arms  through 
the  bars,  he  succeeds  to  dislodge  the  rod.  Rapidly  then 
picking  up  his  sword  and  opening  the  gate,  he  swerves 
through,  and  between  the  houses,  in  pursuit  —  off 
U.R.) 

(As  Lord  Russmore  disappears,  the    sound  of  horses' 
hoofs,  moving  rapidly  away,  is  heard 
(The  door  on  top  of  the  portico  opens  and  Alice  comes  out 


SWORDS  DRAWN  101 

on  the  balcony.  She  stands  by  the  railing  Right,  intently 
listening.  The  sound  of  hoofs  continues  to  be  heard.) 

ALICE  (with  happy  relief}:  Heaven  be  praised!  He  is 
safely  on  his  way.  .  .  . 

(She  looks  about  for  signs  of  anyone  —  A  breath  of  wind 
rustles  through  the  trees,  and  a  few  leaves  fall.  Seeing  no 
one  about,  Alice  returns  indoor,  closing  the  balcony  door. 
The  light  goes  out  behind  the  lattice  of  this  door.) 
(A  slight  pause,  during  which  the  sound  of  hoofs  dimin 
ishes.) 

(Now,  in  turn,  the  men  that  were  concealed  off  Right,  in 
the  bushes,  on  Languenoc's  side,  —  cautiously  come 
through  the  iron  gate  Right  3,  and,  stooping  as  they  run 
start  Left  across  the  lawn  toward  the  garden  entrance  Left 
%.  As  the  last  man,  Blondin,  starts  across,  Peter  appears 
bare-headed,  wiping  his  forehead  with  a  red  piece  of 
cloth  L.  I.) 

BLONDIN  (halting  mid-way  in  his  course,  lowering  his  voice 
and  hailing  Peter):  Peter!  Go  ye  not  that  way:  else 
ye  wish  ter  challenge  the  devil.  Come  ye  with  us! 

PETER  (quickly  entering  the  gate  Center) :  And  the  master? 

BLONDIN:  Made  good  his  escape!  (Helping  Peter  off) 
There's  a  hole  out  o'  mischief  this  way! 

(They  exeunt  Left  2.) 

(The  sound  of  hoofs  has  died  away  by  now.  Again  a 
breath  of  wind  rustles  through  the  trees  —  the  leaves  fall. 
The  light  in  Alice's  room  is  put  out  and  the  house  is  tem 
porarily  dark.  The  sound  of  the  wind  is  soft,  but  dismal; 
such  as  where  pines  grow  in  a  forest  and  murmur 
weirdly  even  on  a  fine  day.) 

(Lord  Russmore  now  returns.  He  slowly  passes  through 
the  gate,  Right  3,  retaining  hold  of  it  and  partly  support 
ing  himself.  Utterly  dejected,  his  sword  limp  by  his 


102  SWORDS   DRAWN 

side,  he  pauses  and  his  weight  closes  the  gate.  Leaning 
heavily  against  it,  his  head  sunk  between  his  shoulders, 
he  raises  his  hand  and  brushes  it  across  his  forehead,  as 
if  to  alleviate  the  suffering  of  his  mind,  —  his  eyes  the 
while  cast  to  the  ground  before  him.  Suddenly  light  is 
made  back  of  the  two  ground  windows  of  the  house,  and 
the  darkness  outside  is  made  lighter.  As  it  were  conscious 
of  this  and  his  thoughts  gradually  centering  upon  his 
wife,  indoors,  Lord  Russmore  slowly  raises  his  head,  his 
face  transitiving  from  pain  to  anger,  from  dejection  to 
resolve.  His  hand  gradually  clutches  the  pummel  of  his 
sword  —  and,  drawing  erect,  swinging  his  hat  on  —  he 
starts  for  the  steps  with  a  firm  step.  His  hand  rests  a  few 
moments  on  the  knob  of  the  portico  door;  then,  resolutely 
he  enters,  shutting  the  door  quietly  after  him.  A  soft 
swish  of  the  wind  —  leaves  fall  and  the  curtain  slowly 

descends.) 

CURTAIN 


ACT    II  — SCENE   II 

THE  FAMILY  DRAWING-ROOM,  WTITHIN  LORD  Russ- 
MORE'S  HOUSE.     JUST  BEFORE  THE  LATTER  ENTERS. 

Discovered,  at  rise  of  curtain,  HENRY,  seated  on  the  hearth 
rug,  in  front  of  the  fire-place,  occupied  in  constructing  a 
castle  out  of  wooden  blocks;  and  Alice  entering  from  Right 
I.,  and  crossing  to  Left  Center,  where  she  empties  the 
fragments  of  Josephine's  letter  out  of  one  of  her  gauntlets 
into  the  palm  of  her  hand.  Henry's  childish  form  is 
silhouetted  against  the  ruddy  glow  in  the  grate,  the  latter 
illumining  his  little  face,  and  tinging  his  golden  hair  with 
red. 
ALICE  (as  she  crosses):  Isn't  my  darling  getting  tired? 


SWORDS   DRAWN  103 

(For  sole  answer,  Henry  shakes  his  head  from  side  to  side 

negatively,  after  a  child's  fashion  when  his  whole  mind's 

absorbed.) 

(Alice  crosses  to  the  fire-place  with  the  fragments  of 

Josephine's  letter  and  pinch  by  pinch  drops  it  into  the 

grate  —  watching  it  burn.) 

(Suddenly  and  noiselessly  the  door  Left  I  opens  and  Lord 

Russmore  crosses  the  threshold.   Alice  does  not  see  him; 

he  stops  and  watches  her  in  her  occupation.   His  brows  are 

knit  and  every  line  of  his  face  suggests  the  coming  storm.) 

HENRY  (first  to  catch  sight  of  his  father  —  pointing  with 
pride  at  the  incomplete  castle) :  Papa,  loo'  - 
(Alice  drops  the  last  fragments  and  turns.) 

ALICE  (quickly  suppressing  her  surprise) :  Why  .  .  .  Hugo. 
—  (She  contrives  to  smile  happily,  and  goes  to  his  en 
counter.) 
(He  closes  the  door  with  a  jerk.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (dryly) :  Yes  —  (And,  ignoring  her  move 
ment  of  welcome  passes  her,  and  proceeds  to  the  settee, 
U.  R.,  speaking  as  he  goes  up)  —  Send  the  child 
away!  .  .  . 

ALICE  (remains  where  she  stood,  mechanically  following 
him  with  her  eyes.  He  deposits  his  cape  and  hat  on  settee.) 
(With  the  prescience  of  evil) :  What  —  has  happened? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  shall  inform  you  when  the  child  has 
gone.  (This  is  said  without  looking  at  her,  proceeding 
toward  the  window  U.  C.  where  he  remains  with  his  back 
turned  to  the  room,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him.) 

ALICE  (reverting  her  eyes  from  her  husband  to  Henry  — 
going  toward  the  latter  and  addressing  him,  her  voice 
tremulous) :  Darling  —  Papa  wishes  to  speak  to  maman 
—  Come,  darling.  .  .  . 

HENRY  (looking  up  and  then  rising  with  docility) :  Wi'  — 
maman?  — 


104  SWORDS   DRAWN 

ALICE  :  Yes,  my  darling.  Baby  can  come  back  to  play  in  a 
little  while. 

HENRY  (as  his  mother  leads  him  fondly  toward  the  door) : 
Leedle  w'ile?  — 

ALICE  :  Yes,  my  sweetheart  —  Go  find  Mary.  —  (Stooping 
and  kissing  him  at  the  door)  You  dear  darling!  .  .  . 
(Exit  Henry  R.  I.  E.,  to  look  for  Mary.   Alice  closes  the 
door,  then  coming  forward,  speaks  eagerly.) 
Now,  Hugo,  —  what  is  it?  —  What  has  happened?  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (turning  an  infuriated  countenance  to 
her.  Coming  forward) :  You!  .  .  .  you!  .  .  .  (Halting 
and  glaring  at  her.)  That  you  should  even  ask  me!  .  .  . 

ALICE:  I  don't  know  what  you  mean? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  This  then !  —  that  upon  returning  home 
unexpectedly,  I  surprise  my  wife  in  the  embrace  of 
another ! 

ALICE  (starting  to  half  realize  the  situation,  and  the  reason 
for  his  action  and  words):  Oh,  no-no-no-no!  ...  It 
isn't  so!  ... 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes,  Madam ! 

ALICE:  But  still  —  you    mustn't  believe  me  capable  — 
(A  sudden  look  of  apprehension  comes  to  her  face.)  — 
Oh,  my  God!  you  say  you  saw!  —  Oh,  then  —  you 
must  have  .  .  .  Hugo !  what  is  it  you  have  done  f  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Oh,  be  re-assured,  Madam,  if  that 
alone  concerns  you:  lovers  like  thieves  do  not  face 
punishment,  who  can  still  resort  to  flight! 

ALICE:  M'lord!  —  can  I  believe  that  you  speak  such 
words  to  me? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Who  else  should  they  be  spoken  to, 
Madam?  Who  else  but  you  so  far  forgot  decency  and 
honor  as  to  commit  the  act  of  a  wanton! 

ALICE:  Hugo!  —  Don't  you  dare!  don't  you  dare!  You 
have  not  the  right!  .  .  . 


SWORDS   DRAWN  105 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Right  ?  —  When  I  can  thus  account  for 
your  strange  moods  of  the  last  month  —  and  your  state 
of  nervousness,  to-night,  in  anticipation  of  this  meeting? 

ALICE  :  Oh,  it  is  too  —  too  horrible !  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (uninterruptedly):  Then,  that  letter 
which  you  tore  at  my  departure  —  your  inquiries 
then  as  to  when  I  should  return  —  evidently  that 
same  letter  being  destroyed  at  my  entrance !  My  com 
ing  home;  the  light  in  your  room — (This  sudden 
thought  transfigures  him.  He  glares  at  her.  A  short 
pause,  then  in  low,  suppressed  tones}  Tell  me !  —  He 
was  there!  .  .  . 

(Alice  becomes  still  as  marble,  staring  at  him  as  if 
hypnotized  —  Suddenly  she  breaks  the  spell;  at  first, 
weakly;  then,  forcefully.) 

ALICE  (weakly):  No  —  no!  .  .  .  (Vehemently)  No!  No! — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  He  was  there!  (Same  suppressed  tones; 
but  positive.) 

(With  clenched  hands,  advancing  threateningly  toward 
her)  Why  don't  you  deny  it!  ...  (Forcefully.) 

ALICE  (recoiling  tremblingly — joining  her  hands  in  appeal) : 
Hugo! 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (pressing  his  hands  to  his  temples,  turning 
away):  God!  .  .  . 

ALICE  (appealingly  —  toward  him):  Ah,  m'lord;  nothing 
of  this  —  nothing  that  you  think  is  true !  .  .  .  Noth 
ing! —  not  even  that  letter  was  from  him — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (sharply  —  turning  upon  her) :  Who  from 
then? 

ALICE  :  It  was  from  —  (She  stops  abruptly,  afraid  to  even 
risk  compromising  Josephine)  —  Oh,  I'm  afraid  to  even 
tell  you  that  —  But  it  proves  nothing ! 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Proves  nothing? 

ALICE:  Oh,  you  cannot  possibly  think  such  monstrosity 


106  SWORDS   DRAWN 

of  me,  Hugo?  It  is  too  unfair  .  .  .  too  unjust.  .  .  . 
(With  pathos)  If  you  have  really  cared  for  me,  m'  lord — 
you  cannot  now  entertain  such  thoughts  of  me?  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  We    love    inasmuch    as    we    respect, 
Madam :  no  more !  No  less ! 

ALICE  :  Oh,  Hugo  —  How  can  you  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  You  choose  to  make  appeal  to  these 
sentiments  in  me  which  in  love's  purest  sense  I  bore 
you  —  and  yet :  not  one  word  in  vindication  of  yourself 
—  indifferent  to  my  pain  and  humiliation !  —  Hither 
I  have  come,  hoping  'gainst  hope  —  despite  even  the 
proofs  presented  to  my  own  eyes  —  that  you  would 
assert  your  innocence;  at  least  advance  some  likely 
plea  —  but,  instead,  your  one  palpable  thought,  your 
sole  concern  remains  to  shield  this  thief  of  my  good 
name !  — 

ALICE  :  Oh,  Heaven  give  me  strength !  — 

LORD    RUSSMORE     (uninterruptedly) :    Obviously,  then  — 
his  safety  is  of  more  account  to  you  than  my  honor  — 
but  nonetheless  —  honor  still    means   ev-e-rything    to 
me !  and  the  man  who  has  outraged  it  must  now  reckon 
with  me!!  .  .  . 

ALICE  (with  increasing  alarm) :  What  will  you  do  ? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Do  ?  —  //   my    equal,  fight   him !  —  If 
not !  Have  him  scourged  and  shot,  as  he  deserves !  .  .  . 

ALICE:  But  he  escaped  —  You  failed  to  recognize  him?  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Aye!  —  But  you  are  here  to  inform  me! 

ALICE  (wildly,   recoiling  from   him):  Oh,   no-no-no!  .  .  . 
you  will  not  force  me  to  do  that!  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  My  fixed  resolve,  Madame! 

ALICE:  No-no! — but  you  must  not,  Hugo  .  .  .  you  must 
not.  .  .  . 

(With  pathos.    He  stands  glaring  at  her.) 
Oh,  what  is  it  I  must  say  to  move  you.  .  .  . 


SWORDS   DRAWN  107 

(She  kneels.  The  moonlight  that  streams  in  the  room, 
through  the  window  U.  Center,  reaches  to  where  she  is 
kneeling.) 

See  ...  I  implore  you  ...  on  my  knees  —  If  you 
only  knew  .  .  .  M'lord  .  .  .  Oh,  —  I'm  so  fright 
ened,  Hugo  ...  I  cannot  think  .  .  .  But  I  can't 
...  I  can't!  —  I  don't  dare  to.  ...  Because,  —  be 
cause  it's  for  your  sake  that  I  cannot.  .  .  .  Won't  you 
believe  that?  It's  for  your  sake  —  Won't  you  trust 
me?  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  distrust  all  motives  that  have  for 
object  to  shield  him.  —  I  want  the  truth!  ruse  can 
nowise  justify  what  I  saw!  — 

ALICE  :  But  listen !  listen,  Hugo !  —  even  admitting,  on 
the  one  hand,  that  you  have  reason  to  think  as  you  do, 
but  still  contending  on  the  other,  that  what  I  say  and 
claim  is  true;  that  even  higher  a  motive  than  my  pres 
ent  duty  to  you,  m'  lord  —  than  obedience  to  your 
command  —  forces  me  to  remain  silent  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Then,  I  do  say  this  to  you,  in  turn :  that 
you  have  not  the  right  to  withhold  your  confidence  from 
me  and  that  it  is  my  prerogative  to  exact  it  from  you! 

ALICE:  Merciful  Heaven  —  what  shall  I  do?  ...  Alas, 
I  can  not  tell  you  anything,  Hugo  —  not  even  defend 
myself.  .  .  .  For  pity's  sake,  then  —  Can  you  not 
see?  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Enough  of  this,  Madam!  First  of  all, 
,'\I  demand  that  you  reveal  his  name!  — 

ALICE  :  Nay !  nay !  —  you  will  drive  me  mad. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Tell  me  his  name! 

ALICE:  Oh,  I'm  afraid  of  you  .  .  .  Why  are  you  so  piti 
less?  .  .  .  Already,  anger  has  made  you  blind  to 
aught  I  have  been  to  you  —  to  all  I  now  suffer.  .  .  . 
But  I  must  —  I  must,  still  keep  silent,  and  I  will  still 


108  SWORDS   DRAWN 

do  what  I  deem  is  right !  —  Aye !  rather  will  I  submit 
to  anything  you  say  —  do  anything :  save  in  this : 
because  I  cannot!  —  Do  you  not  see  I  can't  speak? 
and  I  will  not!  because  ...  I  cannot,  Hugo  ...  I 
can  not  ...  I  can  .  .  .  not  .  .  .  Hugo  ...  I  can 
.  .  .  not  .  .  . 
(She  cries,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Then  you  leave  me  no  other  alternative 
but  to  compel  you!    (He  goes  to  the  bellrope  Left,  and 
pulls  it:  a  distant  bell  is  heard.) 
So  be  it!  .  .  . 
(He  returns  to  the  Center.) 

I  am  your  husband,  and  command  your  obedience  — 
I  overheard  this  man's  words  —  to  expect  him  next 
Tuesday  afternoon,  during  my  absence:  Unless  you 
consent  to  furnish  me  his  name  and  address,  that  I 
may  seek  him  ere  then  —  on  that  day,  mark  you !  I 
shall  compel  you  to  decoy  him  into  my  presence. 

ALICE  (staring  at  him.  With  smothered  exclamation): 
Oh!  ... 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  —  In  the  meantime,  keeping  you  closely 
confined. 
(His  tone  is  icy  and  matter-of-fact.) 

ALICE  :  Hugo  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  —  Afterwards  —  when  I  have  satis 
fied  my  honor  —  you  and  I  shall  separate  forever; 
nevermore  to  enter  this  house. 

ALICE:  Oh,  it  is  too  .  .  .  too  .  .  .  cruel.  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  —  You  can  prevent  this  meeting  taking 
place  here  and  spare  yourself  the  ordeal  of  being  pres 
ent,  by  revealing  his  name  to  me. 

ALICE:  Alas!   .  .  .   that    is    impossible  .  .  .  impossible, 
Hugo.  .  .  .  Ah,  at  least,  at  least!  .  .  .  give  me  time 
.  to  think  ...  to  think!  .  .  . 


SWORDS   DRAWN  109 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  will  grant  you  till  the  stroke  of  the 
hour  to  reflect,  Madam.  .  .  . 
(There  is  an  audible  knock  heard  at  door  Right  3.) 
—  Come  in. 

(Alice  at  once  averts  her  face  toward  the  fire-place,  ap 
proaching  same.) 

(Enter  Fobs:  a  middle-aged  servant,  valet  to  Lord  Russ- 
more.) 

FOBS:  Your  lordship  rang  for  me? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Fobs,  see  that  every  door  is  made  fast 
for  the  night  —  afterwards  bring  all  the  keys  to  me  in 
my  study. 

(Fobs  proceeds  to  Left  I.  E.  and  exits.  After  his  exit, 
Lord  Russmore  steps  to  the  door  and  shuts  it.  Alice  has 
broken  into  a  nervous,  hysterical  laughter.) 

ALICE  (as  her  husband  goes  and  shuts  the  door):  H'n-h'n- 
h'n-h'n-h'n  —  Oh,  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  try  to  es 
cape,  m'lord:  be  these  precautionary  measures  against 
me  .  .  . 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  shall  not  trust  you  until  you  have 
yielded  —  (He  goes  to  Left  3,  E.,  locks  the  door  and  re 
tains  the  key.)  Furthermore,  that  you  may  hold  con 
versation  and  communicate  with  no  one  —  you  shall 
not  even  leave  this  room  till  you've  reached  your  de 
cision. 

ALICE:  Oh,  that  you  should  be  so  altered  tow'rd  me, 
m'lord  .  .  . 
(She  sobs.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Upon  the  stroke  of  the  hour  I  shall  re- 
enter  this  room,  hoping  to  find  you  more  disposed  to 
yield  to  my  wishes:  In  the  meantime,  consider  that 
I  am  determined  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  that 
submission  on  your  part  is  the  only  means  whereby 
you  can  gain  some  clemency  afterwards!  !  ! 


110  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(He  averts  his  eyes  bruskly  away  from  her  and  exits  Right 
3,  closing  the  door  quietly  after  him.  Alice,  her  gaze  fol 
lowing  his  exit,  gradually  collapses  into  a  weak  discour 
aged  state.) 

ALICE  (weakly) :  Oh,  my  God  .  .  .  what  am  I  to  do?  .  .  . 
Heaven  help  me  .  .  .  (Pathetically)  He's  so  convinced 
I've  sinned  'gainst  honor  —  and  will  be  so  determined 
...  so  unjust  ...  I  can't  betray  my  poor  brother 
to  exonerate  myself?  —  (Starting,  as  the  thought  occurs 
to  her)  And  his  threat  to  confine  me  till  next  Tuesday ! 
.  .  .  Oh,  just  Heaven  no!  ...  I  mustn't  let  him!  — 
That  would  ruin  all!  And  that  paper  which  Milton  is 
to  bring :  were  Hugo  to  seize  it  —  it  would  lead  to  the 
discovery  of  the  plot  —  Oh,  no,  no !  ...  (With  simple 
pathos)  And  he  is  coming  here  to  save  Hugo's  life  — 
(This  with  a  glance  toward  Right  3,  E.)  —  Oh,  I  must 
not  remain  here!  .  .  .  (She  goes  to  the  Virginal  for 
her  hat  and  gauntlets)  I  must  escape!  .  .  .  But  where? 
.  .  .  where?  ...  I  can't  think  .  .  .  But  I  must  - 
(With  sudden  inspiration.)  Ah,  yes!  !  .  .  .  To  Mar 
garet  —  my  old  nurse,  in  Surrey  —  I  can  go  to  Lord 
Argyle,  and  he'll  see  me  escorted  there  this  very  night ! 
.  .  .  (Puts  on  her  hat)  Then  Hugo  knows  nothing  of 
her,  and  while  there  I  can  communicate  with  Josephine 
to  warn  Milton  'gainst  his  coming  here !  .  .  .  (She  goes 
toward  the  window  U.  C.  while  drawing  on  her  gauntlets.) 
—  Provided  I  can  only  take  my  horse  out  unobserved 
—  (She  peers  out  and  returns  toward  the  desk  Left  2) 
All's  dark  in  the  stable!  .  .  .  (As  she  comes  to  the  desk 
and  takes  a  small  purse  from  the  drawer)  The  servants 
have  retired :  I  shall  escape  through  the  basement  — 
He  will  (Glance  Right  3  E.)  never  think  of  that  .  .  . 
(She  comes  to  table,  takes  her  riding  whip  and  proceeds 
toward  Right  I.  E.)  Yes  —  it  is  the  only  wray  —  Heaven 


SWORDS  DRAWN  111 

grant  that  I  succeed!  .  .  .  (She  tries  to  open  the  door. 
It  resists  her  efforts.)  (Faint  with  discouragement.) 
"Pis  locked  —  Oh,  n-n-n-n-no!  —  Heavens!  What 
shall  I  do?  —  What  is  to  become  of  me  —  (Xes  to 
Center,  looking  toward  Left  I.  E.)  If  I  only  dared  to 
appeal  to  Fobs;  —  nay  —  that  were  futile  as  well  — 
But  I  cannot  remain  here  —  I  shan't  be  able  to  bear 
it;  ah,  I  must  escape  —  I  must!  I  must!  (Looking 
wildly  for  some  place  of  issue.)  God!  I  shall  grow 
wild  I ! 

(Suddenly  the  rattle,  as  of  the  turning  of  the  door  knob 
is  heard  Right  I.  E.  Alice  stops  in  suspense.  Simul 
taneously  with  repeated  rattle  of  the  door  knob,  Henry's 
little  voice  is  heard  calling.) 

HENRY:  Maman  —  Baby  wan'  tie  come  in! 

ALICE  (with  joyous  inspiration) :  Henry!  —  (Then  going  to 
the  door  quickly,  pulling  on  the  knob  so  as  to  facilitate 
for  him  the  sliding  of  the  bolt.)   Henry  —  darling  — 
Open  the  door  for  Maman !  —  push  the  bolt  out,  my 
sweetheart  —  Can  baby  do  so? 

HENRY:  N-no! 

ALICE  (pathetically) :  Try  —  try,  my  darling  —  Try,  my 
sweetheart  —  try  — 

(The  door  suddenly  opens.   Alice  utters  a  stifled  exclama 
tion  of  joy.) 
Ah!- 

(She  picks  him  up  after  closing  the  door  again.)  You 
blessed  sweetheart !  —  Kiss  Maman  good  bye  — 

HENRY:  Maman  goin'? 

ALICE  (smothering  him  with  kisses) :  Yes,  my  dear.  Baby 
be  a  good  boy  and  love  papa,  and  Maman  will  bring 
him  nice  playthings.  (She  lets  him  down  Center.) 

HENRY:  Playtlings? 

ALICE  (going  to  door) :  I  must  not  tarry  —  Oh,  how  shall  I 


112  SWORDS   DRAWN 

bear  this  separation!    (At  door  Right  I.,  blowing  him 
a  kiss)  Good  bye,  my  sweetheart. 
(He  kisses  his  little  hand  to  her  as  she  exits.   He  then 
proceeds  to  the  hearth  and  resumes  the  completion  of 
his  castle.) 

(A  slight  pause  —  then  the  belfry  bell  heard  in  the  pre 
vious  scene,  strikes  the  first  stroke  of  the  hour.  After 
the  second  stroke  the  voice  of  Mary  is  heard  calling  off 
Right  I.  E.) 

MARY  :  Oh,  Master  Henry  —  Pray  where  art  thou,  Master 
Henry? 

(Third  bell  stroke  as  Mary  enters  Right  I.  E.) 
My  lady  bid  me  come  put  thee  to  bed  —  'tis  unusually 
late  for  thee  to  be  up. 

HENRY  (plaintive  reluctance) :  N-no ! 

MARY:  Eh,  and  at  once!  The  sandman  will  soon  be 
a-comin' ! 

(Fifth  stroke  of  the  bell;  enter  Lord  Russmore  Right  3  E. 
He  stops  upon  realizing  the  absence  of  Alice  and  the 
presence  of  Henry  and  the  servant.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (advancing  to  the  Center  of  the  room): 
Where  is  Lady  Russmore,  Mary? 

MARY:  My  lady  went  up  to  her  room.  She  ordered  a 
strong  herb  potion  prepared  and  brought  up,  as  she 
suffered  from  acute  headache. 

FOBS  (who  has  meanwhile  entered  Left  I.  E.):  Here  are  all 
the  keys,  m'lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (to  Fobs) :  Has  anyone  gone  out? 

FOBS:  No,  m'lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Mary  —  you  are  positive  that  her  lady 
ship  went  upstairs? 

MARY:  Yes,  my  lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Then  go  pray  tell  her  to  come  down  to 
me  here. 
(Mary  inclines  her  head,  and  exits  Right  I.  E.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  113 

FOBS:  Anything  further  m'lord? 

(Henry,  meanwhile,  has  come  over  to  his  father,  and 
clinging  to  him  with  one  arm,  indicates  proudly  his  com 
pleted  castle  with  the  other.  The  castle  —  quite  tall, 
stands  in  relief  against  the  red  glow  of  the  fire-place.) 

HENRY:  Loo'!  —  Loo'  —  papa!  —  bably  blilt  his  cassel. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (looking  toward  the  castle,  pressing  the 
child  to  him  at  the  same  time  —  After  a  slight  pause,  ad 
dressing  the  servant,  without  detaching  his  eyes  from  the 
castle,  simply):  Fobs  —  lead  the  child  upstairs.  —  Go, 
Henry. 
(The  servant  comes  and  takes  Henry's  hand.) 

HENRY  (looking  inquiringly  at  the  servant  as  he  is  being  led) : 
Wi'  Flobs? 

FOBS  (quietly) :  Yes,  Master  Henry. 

(They  exeunt  Right  I.  E.  Lord  Russmore  looks  after  them 
as  they  exeunt  —  then  after  a  slight  pause.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  My  poor  little  chap  —  (He  reverts  his 
eyes  again  toward  the  castle.)  Yes  —  you  have  built 
your  first  castle;  but  even  as  you  built  it  your  castle 
was  being  demolished  —  that  castle  of  a  higher  sort : 
your  home  —  and  not  even  love  of  you  —  my  little 
son,  stayed  the  hand  that  destroyed  it  — 
(Chilled  at  heart,  sad,  despondent,  his  head  finally  droops 
and  he  stands  immobile,  frowning,  staring  at  the  floor 
before  him.  —  Pause.) 

CURTAIN 


ACT  III 


ACT    III 

Scene  —  INTERIOR  OF  THE  MODEST  COTTAGE  INHABITED 

BY  JOHN  AND  MARGARET  RAYNES  IN  SURREY. 
Time  —  TUESDAY  MORNING,  Six  DAYS  LATER.    DECEM 
BER  ELEVENTH. 

Log  fire  in  old-fashioned  stone  hearth,  U.  L.  C.  The 
kettle  hanging  directly  over  the  brazier  beside  the  gridiron, 
by  means  of  a  chain,  is  spouting  steam  and  murmuring 
shrilly.  Realistic  breakfast  cooking.  The  furniture  of 
the  room  is  heavy,  primitive  and  plain.  Everything  is 
very  neat  and  tidy.  On  each  side  of  the  hearth  a  few  cook 
ing  utensils  are  hung.  Also  a  couple  of  copper  pans, 
well  polished,  though  denoting  frequent  use.  A  small 
curtain  stretches  across  the  lower  half  of  the  window  U.  R. 
Through  the  upper  half  part  of  the  window  the  trees  are 
perceived.  For  the  present,  they  are  but  dimly  seen  as 
through  a  dense  fog. 

Discovered:  attired  in  the  peasant's  dress  and  cap,  white 
hood  of  the  period,  MARGARET  RAYNES,  a  middle-aged 
very  stout,  matronly  woman  with  a  round,  ruddy,  kind 
face.  She  is  bustling  about,  setting  the  table  and  preparing 
breakfast  for  Lady  Russmore. 

MARGARET  (as  the  curtain  rises,  setting  the  pitcher  of  milk 
upon  the  table,  stepping  back  and,  with  her  arms  arched 
upon  her  hips,  contemplating  the  setting  with  satisfaction) : 
There!  —  trim  as  I  kin  make  it.  (Her  gaze  goes  to  a 
knife  that  is  spotted.  She  picks  it  up  and  starts  to  rub  the 
spot  off  the  blade  with  the  reverse  of  her  apron.)  But  my 
lady  won't  touch  a  morsel.  Weeps  and  walks  the  floor 


118  SWORDS  DRAWN 

the  whole  night  long.  (Replaces  the  knife  and  goes  up  t° 
the  fire-place,  drying  her  eyes,  on  the  way,  with  her  apron.) 
I  daresay  't  is  those  evil  bodied  tyrants  again  perse~ 
cutin'  the  poor  bairn.  (Taking  the  teapot  from  the  grid 
iron  and  returning  to  the  table)  May  the  just  saints  bring 
her  relief!  And  woe  to  their  wicked  heads! 
(She  wipes  the  bottom  of  the  teapot  and  lays  it  down,  and 
proceeds  toward  a  sort  of  sideboard  Left  2.  As  she  starts, 
the  noise  as  of  a  door  opening  and  shutting  off  Right  is 
heard.  Margaret  walks  more  slowly  toward  the  sideboard 
keeping  her  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  door  Right  I.,  as 
it  were  expecting  someone  to  appear.  Reaching  the  side 
board,  she  opens  the  drawer  and  takes  out  from  among  a 
great  many  other  things,  a  silver  spoon,  carefully  wrapped 
up  in  a  piece  of  white  cloth.  Eyes  still  toward  Right  I.,  as 
she  unwraps  the  spoon.  Enter  her  husband,  JOHN  RAYNES  . 
At  his  appearance,  Margaret  arches  her  arms  above  her 
hips,  facing  him,  and  disposed  to  scold.) 
(John  Raynes  is  an  odd-looking,  good-natured,  a  trifle 
oldish  sort  of  an  individual  of  medium  height.  He  is  not 
stout  but  more  wiry,  and  the  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head  is 
very  spare  —  thinning  down  to  almost  baldness  in  the 
center  of  the  top,  but  quite  full  and  curly  at  the  sides  and 
at  the  back.  The  color  of  his  hair  is  sandy  red  and 
grey.  His  face  is  ruddy,  his  nose  stubbed  and  tilted,  his 
mouth  large  and  smiling,  his  eyes  small,  blinking  and 
merry.) 
(Exhale) 
Well! 

JOHN  (throwing  his  hat  upon  a  chair,  jovial  and  rubbing 
his  hands') :  Well,  wife  —  here  I  be  at  last. 

MARGARET  (same  frowning  attitude) :  And  in  goodly  time, 
Master  Raynes!  (Her  scoldings  always  make  John 
laugh.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  119 

JOHN  (good-natured,  impassive,  rubbing  his  hands}:  He! 
he !  he !  he !  —  Now  don't  ye  scold,  wife.  The  mare  got 
hurt  and  I  had  ter  put  her  up  at  the  "Cock"  overnight 
and  ter  walk  her  home  this  mornin'. 

MARGARET  :  A  like  excuse,  ter  set  yer  wife  and  my  lady 
a-frettin'  an'  a-worryin'  all  night  over  ye.  (She  puts 
the  cloth  into  the  sideboard  and  comes  down  to  the  table 
with  the  spoon.) 

JOHN  :  Now,  now,  Maggie  —  it  was  nobody's  fault  but  the 
fog,  which  made  Mary  Jane  mistake  a  hole  fur  solid 
ground  —  and  stumble. 

MARGARET  (placing  the  spoon  at  Alice's  place) :  'T  is  well 
the  accident  took  place  before  ye  got  to  the  tavern; 
else  I'd  be  a-thinkin'  'twas  the  load  that  made  her 
stumble.  (She  goes  to  sideboard  and  closes  the  drawer.) 

JOHN:  He!  he!  he!  he!  he! 

MARGARET  (returning) :  But  what  of  my  lady's  errand? 

JOHN  (nosing  curiously  at  the  fire-place) :  The  young  miss 
was  out,  Maggie.  So  I  gave  her  ladyship's  message  to 
Lady  Scarsdale.  (He  raises  the  cover  of  a  pan  to  see 
what's  cooking  in  it.)  But  how's  she  feelin'  today,  wife? 

MARGARET  (fussing  above  table,  her  back  to  him) :  Enough 
to  turn  a  body's  head.  Has  been  walkin'  the  floor  the 
whole  night  —  till  I  could  count  her  steps  in  my  sleep. 

JOHN:  An'  what  think  ye  is  the  real  cause,  Maggie? 

MARGARET  (going  to  hearth  and  elbowing  him  out  of  the 
way)  Well — s'posin'  I  did  know?  It's  not  fur  me  ter 
satisfy  an  inquisitive  mind. 

JOHN  (good-naturedly  leaving  the  fire-place,  and  coming  down 
to  the  table,  chuckling  to  himself  as  he  comes  down) : 
D'ye  think  I'm  curious,  Maggie? 
(She  empties  the  water  from  the  boiling  potatoes.) 
Well,  ye  have  n't  been  fully  appreciatin'  yer  husband 
all  these  years,  darlint.    (Having  picked  up  a  knife,  he 


120  SWORDS   DRAWN 

starts  to  slice  himself  a  couple  of  pieces  of  bread  from  the 
loaf.}  He's  the  last  tommy  cat  in  the  wurrld,  thot 
would  poke  his  nose  in  superior  folks'  cups.  (He  digs 
up  a  piece  of  butter  with  his  bread  knife,  and  starts  to 
butter  up  the  two  chunks  of  bread.)  Ye  used  ter  say  at 
the  castle,  I  was  over  fond  of  her  ladyship.  Well, 
maybe  I'm  still  more  over  fond  of  her  now  that  she's 
sufferin',  poor  soul.  I've  not  been  abed  here  the  whole 
week,  a-runnin'  the  country  hither  and  thither  fur  her. 
I  be'n't  complainin'  —  fur  ye  can  be  cocksure,  Maggie, 
thot  I'd  walk  ter  Jerusalem  ter  bring  her  back  the 
smiles  of  her  bonny  young  days  agin! 

MARGARET  (coming  down  to  him  and,  after  wiping  her  lips 
with  her  apron,  smacking  a  kiss  on  the  cheek  of  John, 
which  is  nearest  to  her) :  There !  Ye're  a  good  man,  John, 
and  yer  Maggie's  proud  o'  ye. 

JOHN  (undisturbed,  chuckling  to  himself,  tranquilly  con 
tinuing  to  butter  his  bread) :  He !  he !  he !  Reminds  me, 
wife  —  ye  haven't  done  this  fur  a  whole  month. 

MARGARET  :  Well  —  I  be  not  inclined  ter  kiss  folks  that 
don't  ask  fur  them. 

JOHN  (raising  his  knife  and  quietly  shaking  it  at  her) :  He ! 
he !  he !  he !  yer  apt  ter  be  sorry  now  ye  spoke,  Maggie. 

MARGARET  (her  eyes  suddenly  falling  upon  the  loaf  of  bread 
which  John  has  cut  out  of  shape) :  Good  saints !  Look 
at  that  bread! 

JOHN  (looking  at  the  misshapen  loaf,  then  at  the  chunk  in  his 
hand):  Well  —  what's  the  matter  with  it?  Ye  baked 
it,  did  n't  ye? 

MARGARET  (bawling  the  words  in  mimicry  after  him) :  "  Ye 
baked  it,  didn't  ye?"  (With  sharp  anger)  What  does 
it  look  like? 

JOHN  (looking  at  the  piece  in  his  hand,  turning  it  around, 
then  inquiringly  at  her) :  Well  —  'tain't  cake,  is  it? 


SWORDS  DRAWN  121 

MAKGARET  (again  mimics   him):  "'T ain't   cake,  is   it?" 
(She  wrenches  the  knife  away  from  him)   This,  Master 
Raynes,  is  decent  folks'  way  to  cut  bread! 
(Then  simpering  as  she  repairs    the   damages  done  to 
the  loaf.) 

M'm  —  My  lady's  breakfast  that  I'd  tried  make  look 
so  dainty  —  and  ye  come  and  spoil  it  all.  (With  sud 
den  explosive,  petty  temper)  What  else  d'ye  want? 

JOHN  (smiling  imperturbably) :  Well  —  it's  all  accordin'  to 
what  ye  can  spare. 

MARGARET:  Take  these  eggs.  They're  too  cold  now  for 
my  lady,  and  be  off ! 

JOHN  (greedily  taking  the  plate  of  eggs  from  the  table) :  Oo- 
oo!  Thank  ye!  My  chickens,  yer  just  the  ones  I  cov 
eted. 

MARGARET  (as  she  sees  him  go  with  the  plate) :  But  not  the 
plate  —  not  the  plate !  (Reaching  him  she  takes  hold 
of  it.)  My  best  plate! 

JOHN  (with  some  show  of  impatience) :  Ye  don't  expect  me 
to  carry  eggs  in  my  hands,  do  ye? 

MARGARET  (dumping  the  eggs  into  a  wooden  or  brown  earth 
en  plate,  taken  from  the  kitchen  table  Right  2) :  There  — 
and  be  gone!   My  lady's  nerves  ain't  fit  to  stand  a 
busybody  around ! 

JOHN  (recovering  his  good  humor) :  Come  along,  my  chick 
ens.  (Going  for  his  hat)  We'll  go  to  the  henery  —  be 
fore  Mrs.  Raynes  tells  us  to  go  to  the  devil.  I  guess, 
anyway,  this  is  a  bad  place  fur  yees  ter  roost.  (Stop 
ping  at  the  door  and  addressing  them  confidentially) 
Yer  see,  Mrs.  Raynes  expected  her  husband  home  last 
night,  who  did  n't  turn  in  —  so  she's  cross  as  two  sticks 
this  mornin'.  (He  casts  a  furtive  glance  at  her  —  then 
shakes  his  head  and  exits  Right  I.) 

MARGARET  (setting  the  table  in  order  again,  and  repairing 


122  SWORDS   DRAWN 

the  looks  of  the  butter  cake  with  a  knife) :  And  the  butter 

—  lookin'  as  if  been  pitched  into  the  plate  like  so  much 
dough.  —  Creatin'  all  this  rumpus  to  annoy  my  lady. 
(Enter  Alice  U.  L.  E.    She  still  wears  her  riding  skirt, 
but  instead  of  the  bodice  she  has  donned  a  loose  jacket 
which  Margaret  has  lent  her.) 

ALICE  (coming  down  toward  the  table  Center) :  Good  morn 
ing,  Margaret. 

(Alice  is  very  sad,  and  her  face  portrays  a  strain  she  has 
undergone  during  the  last  five  days.) 

MARGARET  (with  an  attempted  courtsey):  Good  morning! 

—  Is  my  lady  rested? 

ALICE  (sitting  Left  of  breakfast  table,  resting  her  elbow  on 

the  edge  and  leaning  her  forehead  in  the  palm  of  her 

hand) : 

Oh  my  —  no  —  What  day  is  to-day,  Margaret? 
MARGARET  :  Tuesday,  my  lady. 
ALICE  (musing    to    herself):  This    afternoon,    then,    that 

Milton  will  come  to  my  house. 

(To  Margaret)  Has  John  returned,  Margaret? 
MARGARET  :  Yes,  my  lady. 
ALICE:  And  my  letter? 
MARGARET:  Seein'  Miss  Scarsdale  was  out  he  gave  it  to 

her  ladyship. 
ALICE:  That  was  right.   Josephine  should  then  be  here 

at  noon,  eh,  Margaret? 

(Alice,  by  degrees,  becomes  animated  and  nervous.   Her 

voice  is  tremulous.) 
MARGARET  (with  a  glance  toward  the  window) :  Unless  the 

fog  delay  her,  my  lady. 
ALICE:  Oh,  let  us  hope  that  it  will  not.    If  it  does,  I  must 

start  out  alone  with  John,  Margaret.    It  is  the  only 

means  I  still  have  to  warn  my  brother  in  time.    (She 

goes  to  look  out  of  window.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  123 

MARGARET  (with  simple  entreaty):  Won't  my  lady  eat 
some  breakfast? 

ALICEJ  I  don't  think  I  can,  Margaret. 

MARGARET  :  My  lady  ought  to  try  in  order  to  keep  up  her 
strength. 

ALICE  (resuming  her  seat  before  her  plate  —  tremulously) : 
Yes,  I  suppose  I  ought  to.   I  should  also  rely  on  Lady 
Scarsdale  helping  us.   (She  picks  up  her  fork.) 
Dear  Margaret  —  (She   lets  her  fork  drop)   But  I'm 
afraid  I  can't  eat  —  (She  looks  up  at  Margaret  across 
the  table  and  her  eyes  fill  with  tears)  I  can't,  Margaret  — 
my  heart's  too  full  —  I  can't  eat  — 
(She  bows  her  head  into  her  hand.) 

MARGARET  (coming  around  the  table,  standing  above  her, 
endeavoring  to  comfort  her) :  There  —  My  lady  must 
not  lose  courage. 

ALICE  (with  effort):  No,  I  must  not.  (Suddenly  raising 
her  face,  looking  at  Margaret)  How  many  days  have  I 
been  here  now,  Margaret? 

MARGARET  :  Six  days,  my  lady.  (She  Xes  toward  the  hearth, 
drying  her  eyes.) 

ALICE  (seated  sideways,  Right,  elbow  upon  the  edge  of  the 
table,  thumping  her  cheek  nervously  with  her  closed 
Right  hand) :  Ah,  yes  —  six  long  —  weary  days  — 
without  anyone  —  away  from  my  child.  —  He  must 
have  missed  his  mother  —  don't  you  think? 

MARGARET  (at  hearth) :  Indeed,  my  lady. 

ALICE  :  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man  —  or  knew  one  whom  I  could 
trust  —  a  woman  is  so  helpless. 

MARGARET  (coming  down  to  the  table,  and  setting  a  dish 
before  her,  cheerfully  calling  her  attention  to  it):  There, 
my  lady.  Fresh  from  the  hen  this  morning ! 

ALICE  (absently) :  So  thoughtful  of  her  —  I  mean  of  you. 
—  Oh,  please  forgive  me;  I  don't  know  what  I'm  say- 


124  SWORDS  DRAWN 

ing.   But  I  really  haven't  any  appetite,  Margaret.  — 
I'm  so  sorry  you  went  to  such  trouble.    You  still  pre 
pare  things  just  as  you  used  to  for  me  at  the  castle. 
(Looking  up  at  her  with  pathos)  But  have  such  days 
really  existed,  Margaret? 

MARGARET:  To  be  sure  they  have;  and  surely  they'll 
come  back  again  for,  as  the  Kirk  says:  "Sorrows  are 
like  clouds  that  cannot  rest  always  twixt  the  sun  and 
the  clear  Miller's  pond."  (Places  cup  beside  her.) 
Here — my  lady  must  eat,  if  only  to  preserve  her 
strength. 

ALICE:  You  are  right.  Indeed,  it's  wrong  to  let  myself 
weaken  this  way.  I'll  try  to  eat  —  Is  this  tea  strong, 
Margaret? 

MARGARET:  Yes,  my  lady.  (Standing  across  the  table 
Right,  she  places  a  plate  in  front  of  her.)  And  toasts  as 
crisp  as  I  could  make  them. 

ALICE:  Thanks.  How  faithfully  you  have  remembered 
my  old  fads.  (Breaking  a  piece  of  toast)  And  where  did 
you  get  the  jacket  I  have  on? 

MARGARET  :  'T  is  the  same  your  mother  presented  me  at 
your  christening,  my  lady. 

ALICE  :  Just  fancy  —  (She  munches  a  piece  of  toast,  and 
makes  vain  efforts  to  swallow  it.) 

MARGARET  (seeing  her  eyes  gradually  filling  with  tears): 
Drink  a  little  tea,  my  lady. 

(Alice  extends  her  hand  for  the  cup,  trembling,  but  then, 
suddenly  breaking  down,  she  turns  her  head  away  and 
shifting  sideways  upon  her  chair  she  sobs.) 

ALICE:  I  can't  eat,  Margaret  —  it's  no  use  —  I  can't  — 
(Again  Margaret  comes  above  her  and  tries  to  console 
her.) 

MARGARET  :  There  —  there  —  my  lady  must  not  let  her 
courage  desert  her. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  125 

ALICE:  Oh,  but  you  don't  know,  Margaret.  Grave  dan 
ger's  threatening  my  brother  —  and  my  husband  also. 
Whichever  way  I  look,  I  can  only  see  the  one  or  the 
other's  peril.  If  I  am  not  at  home  this  afternoon  — 
this  evening  my  husband  will  be  arrested,  and  forfeit 
his  own  life  before  he  surrenders.  If  I  return  and  cross 
the  threshold  of  my  house,  I  will  be  made  the  means 
to  decoy  and  imperil  Milton.  I  have  tried  every  means 
to  locate  his  whereabouts.  I  have  failed.  Lord  Argyle 
could  have  helped  me  —  but  on  the  night  when  he  took 
me  here,  he  also  was  fearful  of  arrest,  and  has  since 
vanished.  I  find  myself  here  alone,  isolated.  I've  sent 
John  scurrying  after  every  clue  to  reach  Milton  — 
Josephine,  too,  has  failed.  Even  William  sent  her  word 
that  he  knew  not  where  he  was.  When  I  arrived,  I  had 
six  days  before  me  to  act  —  Now  I  have  only  till  this 
afternoon,  and  the  thought  is  driving  me  mad,  Mar 
garet  !  —  Mad !  —  Mad !  — 

(She   moves    away,    pressing  her  temples  between  her 
hands,  under  the  strain  of  intense  agony  of  mind.) 

MARGARET  (following  her  Left,  placing  her  arm  about  her, 
trying  to  soothe  her):  Don't!  Don't!  my  lady  — 
a-frettin'  and  worryin'  yourself  so  will  not  avail. 

ALICE  (sobbing,  her  head  on  her  arm  upon  the  top  of  the 
sideboard) :  I  know  —  I  know  — 

MARGARET:  Surely  the  patron  saints  will  yet  send  some 
timely  means  to  prevent  harm  coming  to  Sir  Milton 
and  to  his  lordship. 

ALICE  :  If  I  could  only  think  out  a  way  —  think  of  some 
plan  —  but  it's  to-day  — 

MARGARET:  The  more  reason,  for  their  sakes,  why  my 
^  lady  should  sustain  her  strength  —  the  better  to  think 
out  the  way. 

ALICE  :  Yes,  for  their  sake  I  should.   And  when  Josephine 


126  SWORDS   DRAWN 

comes  we  must  arrive  at  some  plan.    Milton  must  be 

warned.   Desperate  though  the  chances  be:  if  it  takes 

Josephine  and  I  alone  to  go  bar  his  approaching  my 

house! 
MARGARET:  John  will  accompany  you. 

(Enter  John  excitedly  R.  I.) 
JOHN  :  Beg  pardon,  wife  —  but  a  gintleman  has  arrived  — 

inquiring  for  your  ladyship.   (He  closes  the  door,  and 

stands  rolling  his  hat  in  his  hands,) 
ALICE:  Inquiring  for  me? 
JOHN:  Aye.   I  said  I  was  new  to  the  place.    "I  don't  know 

as  there  be  anyone  in  the  house  by  the  name  your  lord 
ship  mentions"  says  I,  "but  I'll  go  in  and  inquire." 
ALICE:  WTho  is  he? 

JOHN  :  As  far  as  I  kin  make  'im  out,  he  be  a  stranger. 
MARGARET:  Ye  asked  not  after  his  name? 
JOHN  :  Aye,  and  so  I  did,  wife.  "  Mention  that  I  come  from 

Miss  Scarsdale, "  says  he. 
ALICE:  Who  can  it  be? 
JOHN:  Your  ladyship  can  see  him  through  yon  window. 

(Points  U.  R.) 
MARGARET:  Possibly  a  messenger  from  Miss  Scarsdale, 

my  lady. 

(Alice  has  gone  to  the  window  and  raised  a  tiny  corner  of 

the  curtain,  looking  off.) 
ALICE    (drawing     away) :    No.   Impossible !  —  Whomever 

sides  with  the  King  is  to  be  shunned.  —  What  can  this 

mean? 

JOHN:  Maybe  I  kin  offer  a  little  suggestion. 
MARGARET  (checking  his  presumption):  Master  Raynes! 

Keep  it  till  you  be  asked! 

(John  cannot  repress  a  smile  —  lowers  his  eyes  and  rolls 

his  hat.   Heedless  of  both,  Alice  has  been  reflecting.) 
ALICE  (arguing  with  herself) :  And  yet  —  how  comes  he  to 


SWORDS   DRAWN  127 

know  I  am  here?   Unless  Josephine  has  told  him  —  and 

if  so  must  have  trusted  him  —  mayhap  for  some  reason 

sent  him  on  ahead  of  her.  —  You  are  positive  you  heard 

him  say  that  Miss  Scarsdale  sent  him? 
JOHN  :  Aye,  your  ladyship 
ALICE:  Then  I  can't  be  mistaken.   He's  surely  been  sent 

to  my  assistance. 
MARGARET  :  He  be  stepping  off  his  horse,  my  lady. 

(At  window.) 
ALICE:  Show  him  in,  John. 

(John  exits  R.  I.) 

Margaret,  if  I  divine  rightly,  this  is  the  end  of  my  trials. 
MARGARET:  Just  as  I  said,  my  lady  —  the  just   saints 

would  be  sure  to  send  some  timely  means  — 
ALICE:  Ah,  heaven  be  praised  if  it's  so.   Mayhap  he  brings 

news  of  my  brother  —  and  Josephine  has  succeeded  in 

reaching  him.   At  any  rate  she  has  sent  him. 
MARGARET  :  Yes,  my  lady. 
ALICE:  How  can  we  doubt  it  when  Lady  Scarsdale,  her 

daughter  and  Lord  Argyle  alone,  knew  that  I  was  here. 

He's  Lady  Scarsdale's  nephew,  so  what's  more  plausible 

than  they  have  sent  him. 

MARGARET:  Indeed,  my  lady,  'tis  most  fortunate. 
ALICE:    (growing  more  and  more  joyfully  excited):   Any 
way,  being  a  man,  he  will  be  so  much  more  resourceful 

than  I. 

(Robert  passes  the  window,  preceded  by  John.) 
MARGARET:  Here  he  comes,  my  lady. 
ALICE:  We  must  be  very  cautious,  though. 

(John  opens  the  door  U.  R.  C.) 
JOHN  :  If  you  please  —  this  way  in  your  lor 'ship. 

(Enter  Robert  Courtnay,  cool,  deliberate,  self-possessed. 

John  exits,  closing  the  door  after  him.   He  next  passes 

beyond  the  window  off  Right.) 


128  SWORDS   DRAWN 

(Margaret  draws  forth  a  chair.   Robert  declines  it  as  he 
comes  down  toward  Alice  Left  Center.) 

ROBERT  (quietly) :  No  doubt,  Lady  Russmore  is  surprised 
to  see  me,  but  I  needn't  assure  her  — 

ALICE  (interrupting  him):  One  moment,  Mr.  Courtnay, 
first  I  wish  to  know  which  is  your  side;  the  King's  or 
the  Prince's  side? 

ROBERT  (at  ease,  smiling  slightly) :  I  make  but  one  answer 
to  that,  Lady  Russmore  —  (He  closes  his  eyes  an  in 
stant  to  collect  his  thoughts,  but  without  pause)  Like 
Clarendon,  I  declare  religious  principles  to  be  above 
those  of  loyalty.  My  religious  beliefs  are,  unfortu 
nately,  at  variance  with  the  King's  —  (Smiling,  with  a 
slight  arch  of  the  brows)  I  leave  the  conclusions  to  you. 

ALICE:  But  you  forget,  Mr.  Courtnay,  that  in  these 
dreadful  times  one  is  compelled  to  mistrust  even  a 
friend. 

ROBERT  (after  casting  a  glance  at  Margaret) :  May  I  speak 
freely,  Lady  Russmore? 

ALICE:  Yes,  without  reserve.    Margaret  is  my  old  nurse. 
She  has  all  my  confidence. 
(Margaret  makes  protestation  to  withdraw.) 
No  —  I  wish  you  to  remain. 

ROBERT:  Permit  me  to  return  to  you  your  missive  to  my 
cousin.  In  it  you  recount  the  number  of  efforts  made 
to  reach  your  brother,  enjoining  her  in  the  end  to  come 
to  you  —  that  together,  you  may  resolve  upon  some 
last  plan  to  save  the  situation.  I  have  participated 
in  my  cousin's  endeavors  to  find  your  brother,  Lady 
Russmore.  From  the  general  tone  of  your  message, 
my  cousin  grew  apprehensive  lest  new  complications 
had  set  in.  In  sum,  impatient,  from  sheer  anxiety, 
she  begged  me  to  ride  on  ahead,  present  her  letter  as 
credentials,  and  place  myself  at  your  service. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  129 

ALICE  (looking  fixedly  at  him):  A  trust  upon  which  life 
depends,  is  serious  matter,  Mr.  Courtnay.  Misplaced 
confidence  in  this  instance  would  hold  me  responsible. 
Ought  I  then  to  feel  sure  that  I  can  trust  you? 

ROBERT  :  Consider  at  whose  request  I  have  come  — 

ALICE  :  Oh,  I  know  — 

ROBERT  :  And  who  else  but  my  cousin  could  have  directed 
me  to  where  you  were,  Lady  Russmore? 

ALICE:  Still,  I  am  a  woman,  Mr.  Courtnay,  and,  like  a 
woman,  timid,  so  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  hesitate  to 
yield  information  upon  which  so  much  depends. 

ROBERT  :  If  I  prove  conclusively  to  Lady  Russmore  that 
it  was  in  my  power  to  have  betrayed  and  caused  her 
brother's  arrest  days  ago,  but  did  not  do  so,  owing  to 
the  bond  of  sympathy  existing  between  us  —  as  be 
tween  him  and  Lord  Argyle,  for  example  —  would  Lady 
Russmore  longer  hesitate  to  believe  me? 

ALICE:  No,  no.  I  would  not!  Give  me  such  a  proof  and 
I  will  trust  you. 

ROBERT  :  Learn  then  that  I  was  aware,  Monday  week  ago, 
on  the  evening  of  my  aunt's  house  party,  that  Sieur 
Raoul  d'Orsay  was,  in  reality,  Sir  Milton  Lantanay. 

ALICE  :  You  —  knew  —  that? 

ROBERT  (smiling  serenely):  And  yet  did  not  betray  him. 
After  you  had  gone  that  night,  I  was  let  into  the  secret. 
I  may  even  quote  to  you  the  letter  which  he  sent  to 
Josephine,  asking  leave  to  come,  in  which  he  insisted 
that  you  should  be  present  —  so  as  to  place  you  on 
your  guard  — 

ALICE  (taking  hold  of  his  hand) :  Oh  yes,  I  can  trust  you. 
Josephine  never  told  me. 

ROBERT  :  For  want  of  an  opportunity.  From  Lady  Russ- 
more's  manner  at  my  entrance  it  was  easy  at  once  to 
conclude  that  she  had  no  knowledge  of  my  conduct  in 


130  SWORDS   DRAWN 

this  respect.   Let  us  hope  that  we  may  still  avoid  a 
disaster ! 

ALICE:  And  God  reward  you  for  your  kindness!  Won't 
you  be  seated?  (Robert  nods  acceptance,  and  sits  Right 
of  table.  She  sits  Left.) 

ROBERT:  Let  us  briefly  sum  up  the  situation.  In  the  first 
place  our  principal  aim  is  to  give  Sir  Milton  warning. 

ALICE:  And  prevent  him  from  going  to  our  house,  yes. 

ROBERT  (noting  in  his  mind) :  To  your  house  —  exactly. 
You  feel  sure  that  he  will  go  there? 

ALICE  :  Without  doubt  —  for  in  failing  to  do  so  he  would 
abandon  me  to  face  dreadful  circumstances. 

ROBERT:  How? 

ALICE:  I  cannot  tell  you. 

ROBERT:  At  what  time  did  you  expect  his  visit? 

ALICE  :  He  said  he  would  come  at  about  three  o'clock  this 
afternoon.  Lord  Russmore  overheard  this,  and  is  sure 
to  set  a  trap  for  him. 

ROBERT:  A  trap?    (Then  correcting  himself)  Most  likely. 

ALICE:  So,  he  must  be  prevented. 

ROBERT:  Pardon  me,  Lady  Russmore,  if  I  seem  to  follow 
you  imperfectly  —  but,  beyond  the  fact  that  you  have 
left  your  house  and  have  secluded  yourself  here  — 
I  have  only  my  own  deductions  to  base  judgment 
upon  as  to  why  this  was  compulsory.  My  cousin  was 
somewhat  reticent  as  to  your  reasons  —  grave  as  they 
must  be  —  for  having  left  London.  Before  I  can  de 
cide  what  steps  had  better  be  taken,  I  must  ask  you 
more  fully  to  enlighten  me,  —  I  — 

ALICE:  You  wish  to  know  what  compelled  me  to  desert 
my  home? 

ROBERT:  My  desire  to  assist  excuses  my  inquisitiveness. 

ALICE:  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  well  that  you  should  under 
stand  the  true  situation. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  131 

ROBERT  :  Thank  you. 

ALICE:  Lord  Russmore  unexpectedly  came  home  last 
Tuesday  evening  and  surprised  Milton  and  myself  in 
embrace,  just  as  the  latter  was  leaving  the  house.  You 
well  know  Lord  Russmore's  temper — 'tis  the  dread 
of  the  court.  My  brother  escaped  without  so  much 
as  being  recognized,  but  I  was  left  to  face  my  hus 
band's  anger.  He  accused  me  of —  well — infidelity— 

ROBERT:  Inconceivable! 

ALICE:  Aye!  and  little  blame  to  him.  He  had  sufficient 
grounds  for  his  suspicions.  But  it  was  so  different. 
Finally,  rather  than  betray  a  secret  as  dear  to  me  as 
my  own  life,  and  be  made  the  means  to  decoy  my 
brother  into  his  presence  on  his  subsequent  visit  —  I 
was  left  no  alternative  except  to  run  away. 

ROBERT  (rising,  pacing,  half  closing  his  eyes,  biting  his 
under-lip) :  I  see  —  I  see  — 

ALICE:  Have  you  seen  my  husband,  Mr.  Courtnay? 

ROBERT:  The  day  after  you  disappeared.  I  have  since 
ascertained  that  to  all  friendly  inquiry  after  your 
welfare,  he  maintains  that  you  are  still  at  home  and 
all  is  well. 

ALICE:  Oh,  he  is  shrewd!  And  Milton  is  certain  to  have 
made  the  same  inquiry  and  believes  I  am  still  there. 

ROBERT:  Undoubtedly  —  and  that  all  is  well.  Is  Lord 
Russmore  not  aware  that  Sieur  Raoul  d'Orsay  and 
Sir  Milton  are  one  and  same? 

ALICE:  No.  They  had  never  met  previous  to  that  evening 
at  your  house. 

ROBERT:  Why  not  have  risked  telling  him  the  truth? 

ALICE:  He  might  have  deemed  it  his  duty  to  have  had 
Milton  arrested.  Besides,  there  was  another  reason — 
which  I  may  not  impart  even  to  you — and  so  much  de 
pended  upon  it,  I  could  not  have  assumed  the  least  risk. 


132  SWORDS   DRAWN 

ROBERT  :  True  —  being,  so  to  speak,  the  right  hand  of 
his  Majesty,  he  would  never  have  spared  a  foe  —  even 
his  kinsman.  Neither  side  shows  mercy !  —  Lady 
Russmore,  no  time  must  be  lost  in  action. 

ALICE:  What  do  you  propose  to  do? 

ROBERT  :  I  will  depart  for  London  at  once. 

ALICE:  Alone  —  without  us? 

ROBERT:  Better  and  safer  for  all  concerned  that  I  cope 
alone  with  the  situation.  Since  the  appointment's  for 
three  o'clock,  and  granted  that  Sir  Milton  thinks  him 
self  sufficiently  secure  to  present  himself  at  your  house 
—  believing  you  still  there,  and  that's  all  serene  in 
your  household  affairs  —  it  follows  that  we  must  ap 
prehend  him:  to  do  so,  'tis  urgent  to  lose  no  time  in 
reaching  London  ahead  of  him,  to  be  on  the  watch. 

ALICE  :  Forsooth !   for  the  fog  is  like  to  retard  you  greatly ! 

ROBERT  :  I  go  at  once !  Er  —  pray  my  cousin  remain  here 
with  you  —  till  I  send  you  word!  —  I'll  muster  a  num 
ber  of  trusty  fellows  sufficient  to  patrol  every  road 
leading  to  your  house. 

ALICE:  Yes,  I  see!  Oh,  how  shall  we  ever  thank  you 
enough? 

ROBERT:  Say  no  more  about  it.  But  meantime,  promise 
you'll  rest  at  peace  and  know  that  he'll  not  escape  our 
vigilance ! 

ALICE:  Thank  you!  Thank  you!  And  you'll  accompany 
him  back  here  at  once? 

ROBERT:  Aye! 

ALICE:  I  pray  you,  say  nothing  to  him  of  my  husband's 
accusation.  He's  so  hotheaded,  he'd  take  a  notion  to 
resent  it. 

ROBERT:  I'll  not  inform  him.   Fare  you  well! 

ALICE:  Fare  you  well! 

(Exit  Courtnay  U.  R.  C.  E.   A  second  later  he  passes 
rapidly  beyond  window  U.  R.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  133 

(The  moment  he  is  gone  Alice  gives  ventto  her  joyousness.} 
(With  joyous  transport)  Margaret,   at  last!  The  sit 
uation  is  saved  —  is  saved !   Margaret ! 
MARGARET    (with    similar    transport) :     Ye  —  yes  —  my 

lady! 

ALICE:  Do  you  conceive  it  at  all!   Mr.   Courtnay  will 

escort  him  here  —  then  we  shall  all  go  back  together. 

I  will  save  my  husband,  and  all  will    be  well    once 

more.    Oh,  I'm  so  happy! 

MARGARET  :  Yes !   The  good  saints  sent  a  means  —  as  I 

said  —  to  my  lady ! 

ALICE:  Oh,  we'll  burn  all  the  candles  we  can  find  in  the 
house  to  them,  Margaret!  It's  such  a  relief  —  such 
infinite  relief!  I'm  so  happy!  (With  tinge  of  pathos) 
I  —  don't  know  what  to  do  — 

MARGARET  (inspired) :  Eat  your  breakfast,  my  lady. 
ALICE:  To  be  sure,  I'll  eat  my  breakfast.   (She  goes  to 
table.)   Never  fear,  I  will  eat  now,  Margaret.   Before  I 
couldn't  —  really  I  could    not,   Margaret.   (She  sits 
Left  of  table.) 

MARGARET  (other  side  of  table) :  I  will  cook  you  other  eggs. 
ALICE  :  No,  no  —  these  will  do  nicely,  thanks ! 
MARGARET:  But  they're  all  cold. 

ALICE:  Never  mind!  Cold  eggs  can't  matter  now  —  I'm 
happy!  And  these  hard  toasts  I  so  relish!  (She  bites 
off  several  mouthfuls  with  a  crunging  noise):  Oh,  I'm 
just  ravenous! 

(She  picks  up  her  cup  of  tea.) 

MARGARET:  Let  me  warm  up  your  tea  a  bit,  my  lady. 
ALICE  (speaking  with  her  mouth  full) :  I  know  it's  perfectly 
delicious  as  it  is!  (She  swallows  a  large  gulp  of  tea  to 
help  down  the  food,  and  then,  as  soon  as  she  can  manage, 
begins  to  rattle  on)  Do  you  know,  Margaret,  I  just  feel 
like  a  little  child,  I'm  so  relieved,  so  happy  now.  I 


I  SWORDS   DRAWN 

could  just  have  hugged  Mr.  Courtnay!  And  wasn't 
it  perfectly  clever  of  him  to  think  of  collecting  a  lot 
of  men  to  patrol  all  the  highways. 
(Descriptive  gesture  of  the  hand.)  I  can  see  them  from 
here,  promenading  themselves  here  and  there,  every 
one  of  them  on  the  watch.  Mr.  Courtnay  would  make 
a  splendid  general!  He's  Miss  Scarsdale's  cousin. 
You've  never  seen  Miss  Scarsdale,  Margaret,  have 


you 


MARGARET  (offering  her  the  butter  plate):  No,  never,  my 
lady. 

ALICE  (taking  a  piece  of  butter) :  Well  —  (She  hurries  to 
swallow  more  toast,  aided  by  a  fresh  sip  of  tea) :  she's 
Milton's  sweetheart  —  and  she's  devoted  to  him  — 
and,  besides,  she's  beautiful  and  sweet,  gentle  and  good, 
clever  and  brave,  kind  and  lovable  —  Ah,  Margaret, 
nothing  like  happiness  to  make  one  feel  at  peace  with 
the  whole  world!  —  Where  is  John?  I  want  to  thank 
him,  too.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  enough  for  you 
both,  after  this  —  Oh !  there  goes  my  tea !  (Accident 
ally  she  has  upset  her  cup  of  tea.) 

MARGARET  :  Wait,  my  lady !  (She  takes  a  white  cloth  from 
the  kitchen  table  Right  2,  returns  Center,  and  soaks  in  the 
tea  from  the  table  cloth.) 

ALICE:  Oh,  I'm  so  nervous.  I  — I  suppose  it's  because 
the  pain  is  gone.  Oh,  how  I  suffered,  Margaret.  I 
know  now  that  hearts  do  not  break;  they  only  ache, 
Margaret.  (More  and  more  slowly,  with  increasing 
tremor)  and  mine  —  ached  —  and  ached  — 
(The  reaction  setting  in,  her  elbows  upon  the  table,  press 
ing  her  face  between  her  hands) :  Oh,  it  has  been  terrible. 
—  (She  weeps  quietly.) 

MARGARET:  Nay,  nay —  my  lady  mustn't  weep  any  more. 

ALICE  (rising,  walking  down  stage,  drying  her  eyes) :  Please 


SWORDS   DRAWN  135 

don't  mind  me.  These  tears  do  not  hurt.  They  do  me 
good.  (She  slowly  turns  and  forces  herself  to  smile 
through  her  tears  —  Nervously)  Ha !  ha !  what  a  cry 
baby  you  must  think  I  am.  But  there  —  (She  makes  an 
effort  at  being  cheerful)  I  won't  do  so  again  —  (With 
increasing  cheerfulness)  I'll  try  to  laugh  instead.  Yes, 
for  I  want  to  laugh  now  and  be  merry. —  (With  smiling 
touch  of  pathos)  It's  the  first  time  in  so  many  days, 
Margaret. 

MARGARET:  Merry   an'   it   is! 

(Enter  Josephine  quickly  R.  I.  E.  She  wears  a  riding 
habit.) 

ALICE  (rushing  to  her) :  Josephine ! 

JOSEPHINE:  Alice!   I'm  so  glad  to  see  you! 

ALICE:  I'm  glad  to  see  you  too!  Have  you  come  all  alone? 

JOSEPHINE:  I  dismissed  our  man  servant  after  fording 
the  river,  as  he  had  to  be  back  and  I  knew  the  way. 

ALICE  :  Anyhow  you're  here. 

JOSEPHINE:  Aye,  but  —  you  —  Oh,  Alice,  isn't  it  alto 
gether  perfectly  dreadful? 

ALICE  :  Why  no,  dearie  — 

JOSEPHINE:  Then,  you've  had  news  of  Milton? 

ALICE  :  No,  but  there's  nothing  further  to  apprehend  now. 
Mr.  Courtnay  has  been  here  and  has  gone  to  warn 
him. 

JOSEPHINE:  To  —  warn  him?  —  Who? 

ALICE  (during  the  following  speech  Alice,  who  has  Jose 
phine's  hat  in  her  hand,  goes  to  deposit  it  Left,  speaking 
rapidly) :  Milton,  of  course.  (She  moves  away,  speaking 
brightly  and  rapidly.)  He's  just  left,  and  is  going  to 
muster  up  several  men  who  will  patrol  the  highways 
and  simply  surround  Milton  as  he  approaches  our  house. 
(Coming  back)  It  is  fortunate  you  sent  him  ahead  —  it 
gives  him  more  time. 


136  SWORDS   DRAWN 

JOSEPHINE  (who  has  been  glaring  at  her  —  recovering  the 
faculty  of  speech) :  But  Alice  —  /  did  not  send  him ! 

ALICE  (stopping  short,  repeating  slowly  after  her  —  not 
yet  realizing  the  full  significance  of  Josephine's  words) : 
You  —  did  —  not  —  send  him? 

JOSEPHINE  (trembling  with  suspense) :  Why  no ! 

ALICE  (her  voice  gradually  beginning  to  quiver) :  How  then 
came  he  to  know  I  was  here? 

JOSEPHINE:  I  don't  know;  possibly  traced  back  your 
messenger. 

ALICE  (her  alarm  increasing) :  But  —  he  —  brought  me 
back  my  letter  to  you.  Here!  (She  presents  her  the 
letter  with  trembling  hands.  Letter  was  on  table  near 
hei .) 

JOSEPHINE  :  I  cannot  understand  it !  He  must  have  stolen 
it!  He's  Milton's  bitter  enemy! 

ALICE  (half  reeling,  with  a  moan  of  despair) :  Oh,  my  God ! 

JOSEPHINE  (wildly,  with  utter  dismay) :  Oh,  what  is  it  you 
have  done?  What  have  you  told  him? 

MARGARET  (joining  her  hands) :  Merciful  heaven ! 

ALICE  (with  a  wail  of  despair) :  Alas !  —  Ev-e-ry-thing !  — 
Ev-e-ry- thing ! 

JOSEPHINE:  Oh,  Alice! 

MARGARET:  My  poor,  unfortunate  lady! 

ALICE:  Oh,  the  coward!  The  coward!  (Transitting  grad 
ually  from  despair  to  anger) :  And  all  the  time,  while  he 
was  cross-questioning  me,  he  wras  laughing.  Well, 
we'll  see  —  he  laughs  best  who  laughs  last ! 

JOSEPHINE:  What  can  we  do? 

ALICE:  Do?   Start  immediately  on  his  tracks! 

JOSEPHINE:  Aye!   and  reach  London  before  him! 

ALICE:  Margaret,  fetch  my  waist.  (She  begins  to  remove 
the  jacket  she  is  wearing.) 

JOSEPHINE:  Where's  my  hat? 


SWORDS   DRAWN  137 

ALICE:  There! 

(Josephine  goes  and  gets  it.) 

Oh,  the  arch-fiend!   Well!    We'll  see!   My  blood   is 

roused  now  —  I'm  full  of  fight! 

(Margaret  returns  on  the  run  with  the  waist.) 

MARGARET  :  Here's  your  waist,  my  lady. 

ALICE:  Help  me,  Josephine!  We  must  hurry.  He  has 
half  an  hour's  start  on  us.  Margaret,  tell  John  to  saddle 
my  horse  —  and  one  for  himself,  too,  to  accompany  us! 
I  don't  care  what  happens  now  —  husband  or  no  hus 
band!  king  or  no  king!  They're  all  a  lot  of  sanguinary 
fiends ! 
(Josephine  is  helping  her.) 

MARGARET  (who  meanwhile  has  opened  the  window,  leaning 
out  and  calling  off  Right,  at  the  top  of  her  lungs) :  Ja-ahn ! 
(Uttered  in  two  notes,  the  last  climbing  up  to  a  falsetto 
range,  after  the  fashion  of  a  yodle.)  Hurry!  On  yer 
life,  man !  !  Saddle  my  lady's  horse  —  an'  yer  own 
too!  ! 

JOSEPHINE  (to  Margaret,  speaking  above  Alice's  shoulder, 
fastening  the  latter's  waist) :  And  mine  also. 

MARGARET  (shouting  again):  An'  Miss  Scarsdale's,  also. 

ALICE:  Margaret!   My  hat  and  my  purse! 

(Every  time  that  Margaret  starts  on  the  run  to  execute 
these  orders  —  being  extremely  stout  and  heavy  —  her 
feet  make  a  sort  of  thump,  thump  noise  on  the  floor.) 

MARGARET  (starting  across  stage  for  U.  L.  E.,  without  clos 
ing  the  window) :  Yes  —  (She  already  breathes  heavily 
from  sheer  exertion.) 

ALICE:  And  to  think  that  he's  related  to  you! 

JOSEPHINE:  Don't  mind!  I  despise  him  as  much  as  you 
do! 

ALICE:  The  traitor! 

JOSEPHINE  :  I  meant  to  put  you  on  your  guard  the  evening 


138  SWORDS   DRAWN 

I  was  expected  at  your  house,  after  meeting  Milton  at 
the  "Cross-Road-Inn,"  but  when  I  came  —  you  know 
under  what  circumstances  —  it  went  out  of  my  mind. 
He  tried  to  kill  Milton  at  our  house  the  night  you  were 
there,  after  you'd  gone. 

ALICE:  Oh!  the  liar  and  hyprocrite !  And  he  was  rejoicing 
all  the  time  to  find  you  hadn't  told  me!  And  he  made 
use  of  it  to  gain  my  confidence. 

MARGARET  (always  running,  enters  from  U.  L.  E.  She  is 
puffing} :  The  hat  and  purse  —  my  lady! 

ALICE:  My  gauntlets  are  on  my  table  in  my  room,  dearie. 
(Josephine  starts  for  U.  L.  E.) 
My  whip,  too! 
(To  Margaret} 

Hold  this!  (She  tries  to  press  the  purse  in  the  nurse's 
hand  in  order  to  put  on  her  hat,  but  both  are  so  excited 
and  nervous  that  the  purse  ends  by  dropping  to  the  floor. 
Margaret  picks  it  up.  Alice  starts  to  put  on  her  hat.) 
My  poor  brain  is  on  fire!  Isn't  it  horrible,  Margaret 
—  now  isn't  it?  That  there  should  exist  in  the  world 
men  so  unprincipled  as  to  take  advantage  of  a  woman 
as  helpless  as  myself? 

MARGARET  (softly  weeping,  shaking  her  head  with  pity  for 
Alice) :  Oh,  my  lady  — 

ALICE  :  Don't  waste  a  tear  yet,  Margaret  —  wait  till  you 
hear!  I  was  never  more  determined  in  my  life  than  in 
the  present  undertaking !  —  Ask  John  to  take  his 
blunderbuss  along.  I  may  have  use  for  it! 

JOSEPHINE  (entering  rapidly  from  U.  L.  E.) :  Your  gaunt 
lets  and  whip,  Alice. 

MARGARET  (once  more  running  and  calling  off  through  the 
window,  this  time  not  so  loud,  as  John  is  presumably 
nearer) :  Ja-ahn,  get  yer  blunderbuss !  My  lady  says 
so! 


SWORDS   DRAWN  139 

ALICE  (receiving  the  gauntlets  from  Josephine):  Thanks. 

(She  starts  to  put  them  on.)  I'm  going  to  make  things  hot 

when  we  reach  London!   You'll  see! 
JOHN  (off  Right,  responding  to  his  wife  from  the  distance] : 

All  right  —  wife! 
ALICE  :  We  can  muster  men  as  well  as  he  —  and  before  his 

men  seize  Milton,  I'll  kill  Mr.  Courtnay! 
JOSEPHINE:  I  wish  you  would!  Hurry,  Alice,  the  horses 

are  ready ! 

(Have  one  horse,  if  possible,  seen  in  the  foggy  atmosphere 

outside,  beyond  the  window.   Josephine  opens  U.  R.  C. 

door  and  exits  off  Right.   She  is  seen  later  hoisting  herself 

into  saddle.) 

ALICE  (taking  up  her  whip  from  the  table) :  Yes,  yes !  Good 
bye,  Margaret. 
MARGARET  (who  has  been  all  this  while  weeping) :  Oh,  my 

lady  —  I'm  afraid,  — 

(Josephine  disappears  from  view  on  horseback.) 
ALICE  (edging  back  toward  the  door  of  exit):  Now  don't 

you  worry  over  me,  dear  old  nursey ! 
MARGARET  (following  her  to  the  threshold,  reluctant  to  let 

go  of  her  hand) :  I  will  implore  God  every  moment  for 

you! 
ALICE  (in  doorway) :  Nay,  but  more  for  my  brother.    Pray 

that  I  arrive  in  time,  Margaret,  before  Robert  Court- 
^nay  reaches  him. 
JOSEPHINE  (once  more  coming  in  view  before  the  window  for 

a  mere  second) :  Alice !   Come ! 

(Again  she  disappears.) 

ALICE:  Yes!  (Then  quickly  to  Margaret,  embracing  her  a 
)8f  second)  Fare  you  well !    (She  starts  off  Right.) 
MARGARET  (in  the  doorway,  a  trifle  outside) :  God  speed  my 

lady! 

(Possibly  the  same  horse  used  by  Josephine  can  now  back 


140  SWORDS   DRAWN 

slightly  in  view,  as  Alice   mounts  it.   After  Alice  has 

mounted  her  horse  and  disappeared.} 

Good  bye,  John!  Watch  ye  well  over  her  ladyship! 

(Another  slight  pause  and  then  as  if  they  were  all  moving 

away  together.} 

Fare  you  well  — 

(Another  pause.    Then  she  waves  her  hand  as  if  they  were 

too  far   already  to   hear  her  voice.   She  remains  still 

against  the  frame  of  the  door,  watching  them  gradually 

gallop  away.  —  The  curtain  comes  down  quietly,  with 

Margaret  still  gazing  steadily  afar,  a  lone  figure  on  the 

scene.} 

CURTAIN 


ACT  IV 


ACT    IV. 

Scene  —  LORD  RUSSMORE'S  STUDY,  TUESDAY  AFTER 
NOON,  DEC.  HTH,  1688.  AT  RISE  OF  CURTAIN,  IT  Is 
NEARLY  THREE  O'CLOCK.  THE  WALLS  OF  THIS 
ROOM  ARE  OF  A  LIGHT  GRAY  COLOR,  FINISHED  WITH 
GOLD;  HERE  AND  THERE,  A  PANEL  OF  TAPESTRY. 
THE  CURTAINS  AT  THE  Two  WINDOWS  UP  STAGE  ARE 
ALSO  OF  A  SOFT  GRAY  COLOR.  THE  WHOLE  EFFECT  Is 
COLD.  THE  FURNITURE  is  SOFT-GREENISH-GRAY 
AND  MASSIVE. 

Directly  up  center,  there  is  a  book-case,  three  or  four  feet 
high,  with  closing  doors.  Rows  of  books  are  perceived 
through  the  glass.  On  the  top  of  this  book-case,  two 
candelabra  on  each  end,  and  a  dark-wood,  heavily- 
carved  casket  in  the  center.  Hanging  above  the  book-case, 
a  large  oil  painting  representing  Lord  Russmore's  father. 
It  is  quite  sombre,  but  for  the  face  which  stands  out  white, 
austere  and  proud,  and  bears  out  traits  of  resemblance  to 
the  son.  A  few  steps  down  stage  from  the  book-cases 
a  large  rectangular  writing  table  —  an  arm-chair  stand: 
between  it  and  the  book-case.  On  this  writing  table: 
pieces  of  parchment,  a  sand-box,  ink,  quill,  an  immense 
red  book  with  a  gold  tassle  to  it,  a  small  steel  hoop,  half  an 
inch  of  same  cut  off  at  one  place  —  in  guise  of  a  gong. 
It  is  suspended  to  two  uprights  and  one  horizontal  little 
pole;  a  small  steel  rod,  to  strike  the  sound  with,  leans 
against  the  hoop.  U.  R.  and  U.  L.,  respectively,  stiff 
straight-back  settees,  set  obliquely  R.  C.  a  heavy  arm-chair; 
one  with  a  tall  back  to  it. 


144  SWORDS   DRAWN 

Left  2,  a  second  book-case,  this  time  without  doors  to  it. 
On  top  of  this  book-case,  two  medium  size  antiques  — 
Roman  urns:  in  the  center,  an  antique  gold  cup  with 
carved  garlands  of  vine  leaves  and  grapes  wound  around 
from  stem  to  rim  —  the  rim  of  this  cup  is  dented  and 
broken  here  and  there.  Hanging  above  the  book-case,  a 
large  oil  painting  of  the  Queen  of  England.  Chairs  on 
either  side  of  the  book-cases  (Left  2,  and  U.  C.)  with 
straight  tall  back,  set  flat  against  the  wall.  Similar  chairs 
D.  Right,  and  D.  Left.  Doors:  Right  1  and  Right  3, 
Left  1  and  Left  3  —  Right  2  a  mantel  and  fire-place. 
Fresh  logs  are  in  the  grate,  but  no  fire  is  lighted.  On  top 
of  the  mantel,  two  small  gold  candelabra  at  each  end:  in 
the  center,  a  casket  of  carved  ivory  over  the  mantel,  like 
drop  of  blood  on  the  wall,  and  in  the  colorless  surroundings 
hangs  an  oil  painting  of  His  Majesty,  James  II,  in 
purple-red  royal  garments.  The  oil  paintings  of  the  King 
and  Queen  should  be  of  similar  size;  the  one  of  Lord 
Russmore's  father  should  be  larger.  Two  pair  of  trailing 
curtains  —  soft  grey  color  —  to  the  respective  windows 
U.  L.  C.  and  U.  R.  C.  One  of  the  panes  of  U.  R.  C. 
window  is  set  in  a  separate  casing,  to  form  a  ventilator 
that  swings  open  on  hinges  and  is  fastened  by  means  of  a 
little  latch.  Through  the  windows,  the  exterior  in  front 
of  the  house,  as  represented  in  Act  II,  Scene  I,  is  dimly 
perceived.  The  fog,  however,  has  lifted,  but  the  day  is 
dismal  and  gloomy.  —  It  gradually  clears  and  brightens 
up  as  the  act  progresses,  until,  finally,  the  sun  shines 
brightly  at  the  end.  Lord  Russmore's  cape,  hat,  sword 
and  belt  repose  on  the  settee  U.  Left. 
Discovered,  at  rise  of  curtain,  Lord  Russmore,  seated 
before  the  writing  table,  absorbed  at  work;  Fobs,  the  valet, 
stands  before  the  book-case  Left  2,  quietly  assorting  and 
arranging  the  books  on  the  shelf,  once  in  a  while  wiping 


SWORDS   DRAWN  145 

away  dust  from  one  of  them.  Mary,  the  child's  governess, 
is  seated  in  the  tall  arm-chair  Right  C.,  a  folio  of  colored 
pictures  in  her  lap,  showing  these  to  Henry  who  stands 
beside  her. 

A  pause  after  curtain  rises,  then  the  same  belfry-bell  heard 
in  Act  II,  Scenes  I  and  II,  is  heard  striking  3  o'clock. 
During  Intermission,  preceding  this  act,  the  orchestra 
may  play  "Alice  Where  Art  Thou. "  Any  curtain  music 
should  cease  as  the  curtain  rises,  so  as  to  permit  the 
scratching  noise  of  Lord  Russmore's  pen,  as  it  runs  over 
the  parchment,  to  be  heard. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (speaking  only  after  a  pause,   and  the 
three  strokes  of  the  belfry  have  died  away  —  quietly,  with 
out  so  much  as  raising  his  head  or  interrupting  his  writ 
ing)  :  Fobs  — 
(A  short  pause.) 

MARY  (turning  to  a  new  picture,  addressing  Fobs  softly, 
who  hasn't  heard):  Fobs.  —  (She  nods  her  head  slightly 
in  Lord  Russmore's  direction.) 

FOBS  (drawn  out  of  his  reverie) :  Oh.  (He  approaches  Lord 
Russmore.)  I  beg  pardon,  m'  lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (quietly  speaking,  without  looking  up): 
Close  the  window. 

(Fobs  inclines  his  head.  He  closes  the  window  U.  L.  C. 
and  arranges  the  curtains.) 

HENRY  (suddenly  looking  up  inquiringly  at  Mary) :  W'ale 
is  mamma,  —  eh,  Maly? 

MARY  (trying  to  divert  him,  affecting  not  to  have  heard, 
quickly  turning  to  the  next  picture):  Look!  Look! 
Master  Henry  —  The  nice  bow-wow !  (She  indicates 
it.) 

HENRY  (plaintively) :  I  wan'  tie  go  loo'  w'ale  is  mamma. 

MARY  (closing  the  folio  and  lifting  him  into  her  arms) :  No, 
no,  Master  Henry. 


146  SWORDS   DRAWN 

HENRY  (weeping  quietly} :  I  wan'  mamma !  .  .  . 

(Mary  pillows  his  little  head  against  her,  and  starts  to 
rock  him,  endeavoring  to  soothe  him.) 

MARY:  Now  now  —  not  now,  Master  Henry;  Bye  and 
Bye:  mama  will  surely  come.  (She  rocks  him  singing) 
La!  la!  ...  La!  la!  ...  Master  Henry  mustn't  cry 
—  Mary  cannot  bear  it.  ...  (She  hums  her  song  half 
tearfully  herself)  La !  la !  .  .  .  la !  la !  .  .  . 
(During  the  latter  part  of  this,  Lord  Russmore  has 
stopped  writing,  looking  at  them.  He  now  rises  and  quiet 
ly  approaches  Mary  and  the  child.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  a  pause,  standing  beside  them): 
Is  the  child  unwell,  Mary4? 

MARY  (continuing  to  sing  and  rock  Henry) :  Only  since 
yesterday  has  he  taken  these  spells,  m'lord.  (Hums 
La!  la!  ...  (Then  proceeding  almost  to  sing  the  lines) 
The  greater  part  of  last  night  he  lay  awake  crying  and 
calling  for  his  mamma  .  .  .  (Hums)  Ah-ha — ah-ha — 
Now  he's  again  asking  for  her  ladyship.  .  .  .  (Hums. 
All  this  time  not  looking  at  Lord  Russmore)  M'm!  M'm! 
.  .  .  La!  — la! 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (with  reserve,  though  with  visible  pain): 
Let  me  have  him  a  while. 
(Mary  rises.) 
He's  sleepy. 

(He  takes  Henry  into  his  arms.)    Come,  my  little  man, 
with  papa!  .  .  .  (He  kisses  him  fondly.) 

HENRY  (feverishly  rubbing  his  eyes  and  nose  with  his  little 
closed  hand) :  Henly  wan'  tel  go  to  mamma. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Yes,  of  course  —  you  see  .  .  .  (He 
stops  abruptly,  remembering  the  servants'  presence.) 
We'll  go  and  talk  it  all  over  by  ourselves.  (Going  toward 
Left  I.)  — Papa  will  take  good  care  of  his  little  son. 
(He  stops  as  he  reaches  the  exit)  Fobs  —  it  is  three 


SWORDS   DRAWN  147 

o'clock  now;  either  you  or  Mary  attend  the  door.  Carry 
out  my  instructions.  And  one  of  you  inform  me 
whilst  the  other  admits  any  caller.  (This  is  said  over 
his  shoulder,  facing  front  to  them.) 

FOBS:  Yes,  m'lord. 

(Lord  Russmore  stoops  over  the  childish  form  in  his  arms, 

and  exits  embracing  his  son.) 

(Fobs    closes    the    door    after    Lord    Russmore.   Mary, 

meanwhile,  picks  up  the  picture  folio  from  the  floor,  and 

goes  to  deposit  it  on  table  above  mantel. 

(Addressing   Mary  in  quiet  remonstrative  tones)  Why 

have  told  'is  lordship  about  the  child's  cryin'  spells, 

Mary?    (Shaking  his  head  disapprovingly,  mounting  to 

resume  his  work)  It  doesn't  'elp  matters  a  bit. 

MARY  (simply):  I  just  couldn't  'elp  it,  Fobs.  Seeing  the 
poor  bairn  crying  all  night,  an'  me  not  knowin'  what 
to  say,  was  enough  to  turn  a  body's  head.  Our  dear 
mistress  away,  an'  no  means  of  learnin'  why,  whither, 
or  where  she  went. 

FOBS  (assorting  the  books,  sadly  shaking  his  head):  The 
more  reason  why  you  should  n't  hev  given  'is  Lordship 
added  pain.  Maybe  he  cannot  'elp  'imself:  He's  been 
a  good  master  to  you  and  me,  Mary. 

MARY:  I  know.  (Sighing)  All  this  mystery  betokens 
some  great  trial  we  know  not  wot  of.  What  think  you 
can  have  happened? 

FOBS:  One  cannot  tell.  In  these  dreadful  days 't is  enough 
if  one  kin  call  one's  soul  'is  own. 

MARY:  I  shall  never  understand  it.  And  Sir  Andrews 
who  yesternoon  brought  a  score  o'  men  here  for  his 
lordship  to  hire. 

FOBS  (flourishing  his  book  in  indication):  And  them 
scurryin'  hither  and  thither  about  the  premises  since 
this mornin'  —  Jacob  says  they're  now  lyin'  about  in 


148  SWORDS   DRAWN 

wait,  an'  they  will  step  in  an'  arrest  this  caller  his 
lordship  expects. 

MARY:  Surely  some  State  offender. 

FOBS:  But  then,  what  /  cannot  make  out  is  why  this  man 
will  come  'ere  askin'  to  see  her  ladyship?  Yesternoon, 
after  the  men  had  gone,  his  lordship  says  to  me :  "  Fobs, " 
says  he,  "to-morrow,  about  three  o'clock,  should  any 
visitor  come  askin'  to  see  Lady  Russmore,  admit  him 
and  say  she  is  at  home ;  should  he  ask  after  me  — 
say  that  I  am  still  in  Chichester:  immediately  h-inform 
me." 

MARY:  And  his  lordship  spoke  the  same  words  to  me.  It 
must  be  this  has  to  do  with  our  lady's  absence  some 
how. 

FOBS  :  Jacob  says  't  was  rumored  late  last  night  —  the 
Queen  and  her  child  had  fled  to  France.  (He  pauses 
abruptly  in  his  work  upon  hearing  the  front  door  bell 
ring.)  There!  .  .  . 

MARY:  Go  and  open.  (She  goes  to  window  to  look  cau 
tiously  out  between  the  curtains. 

FOBS  (starting  quickly  for  Left  3.}  I  wonder  if  it  can 
be- 

MARY  (as  Fobs  exits,  looking  out):  Likely  'tis  Lady 
Scarsdale;  'tis  her  usual  hour  to  come  and  visit  the 
child  since  her  ladyship's  away. 

(She  arranges  the  curtains.   Enter  Lady  Scarsdale  Left 
3E.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (Xing  to  the  writing  table  and  depositing 
a  small  package,  greeting  Mary  with  a  pleasant  nod  on 
the  way):  Fobs  said  I  should  find  you  in  here.  (She 
starts  to  undo  the  package  that  she  has  brought.) 

MARY:  Good  afternoon,  your  ladyship. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  This  morning  I  purchased  a  little 
novelty  for  Henry.  A  French  toy  to  amuse  him. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  149 

(She  produces  from  the  box  a  Jumping-Jack  painted  in 
French  Pierrot  coloring.) 

MARY:  Oh,  indeed,  your  ladyship,  it  will  delight  him. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (setting  it  to  motion  by  pulling  the  strings) 
Isn't  it  amusing?  (Laying  it  in  the  box)  How  is  the 
dear  baby  to-day? 

MARY  :  Last  night 't  was  pitiful  —  he  lay  awake  the  whole 
night  long  crying  for  his  mother,  and  no  way  to  console 
him.  (She  takes  the  wrappings  of  the  box,  and  puts  them 
in  fire-place  under  the  logs.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  The  poor,  dear  little  man. 

MARY:  In  the  end  I  cried  myself  'twas  so  sad. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  I  can  understand.  You  love  your  mis 
tress  very  dearly. 

MARY:  Oh!  .  .  .  (Expressive  of  "a  great  great  deal.") 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  And  I  imagine  you  would  do  a  great 
deal,  if  you  knew,  in  some  way  or  other,  that  you  could 
make  her  very  happy. 

MARY  :  Indeed  I  would  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Mary  —  you  say  that  her  dear  child 
cries  demanding  her;  what  if  it  should  be  in  your  power 
to  help  me  bring  her  to  this  dear  little  heart  again? 

MARY:  I  could  do  this,  your  ladyship? 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Would  you  hesitate? 

MARY:  Indeed  no,  your  ladyship.  But  how  is  this  to  be 
done? 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  On  my  way  here  to-day,  I  resolved  to 
trust  you  with  a  secret.  Are  you  capable  of  keeping 
my  confidence  —  even  from  Lord  Russmore?  If  I 
pledge  you  in  the  end  to  restore  happiness  to  this 
house? 

MARY  :  Oh,  please  rely  upon  me.  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Yes;  for  I'm  sure  that  I  can  trust  you. 
My  plan  may  fail;  it  may  succeed,  it  largely  depends 


150  SWORDS   DRAWN 

upon  us  —  at  any  rate,  no  harm  will  come  of  it  to  try. 

Where  is  Lord  Russmore? 

MARY:  He  left  the  room  a  while  ago  with  the  child. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Does    Fobs    alone   answer   the    door, 

Mary? 
MARY:  Either  Fobs  or  myself,  when  I'm  not  attending 

the  child. 
LADY  SCARSDALE  :  You  must  then  contrive  to  relieve  him, 

otherwise  remain  outside  in  front  of  the  house  —  with 

the  child  if  possible.    Can  you  do  this? 
MARY:  Easily. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Now,  pay  attention  carefully,   Mary, 

if  you  betray  my  trust,  you  will  ruin  your  master  and 

mistress  irretrievably. 

MARY:  Your  ladyship  knows  full  well  I  shall  not  do  so. 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  I  believe  you.   Listen!   When  you  see 

a  gentleman  presenting  himself  this  afternoon  —  wait 

not  till  he  speaks,  but  ask  him  outright  if  he  is  Sieur 

d'Orsay. 

MARY  (repeating) :  Sieur  d'Orsay? 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Sieur  d'Orsay.   Insist  on  it!   And  if  he 

answers  yes  —  say  to  him  that  Lady  Scarsdale  is  here 

awaiting  him  to  receive  the  message  which  he  carries. 

That  he  must  come  straightways  to  me. 
MARY  :  I  understand,  —  but  — 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Mary,  I  wish  you  to  trust  me,  even 

though  I  cannot  tell  you  more;  but  if  you  do  this, 

probably  to-night,  or  to-morrow,  your  mistress  will  be 

here  and  herself  thank  you  for  the  service  you'll  have 

rendered  her  and  your  master  as  well,  unbeknown  to 

him,  this  day. 

MARY:  Depend  upon  me!   When  must  I  start? 
LADY  SCARSDALE:   At  once!   Without  delay! 

(Mary  starts.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  151 

Take  this  toy !  (She  goes  and  gets  it  and  meets  Mary  half 
way)  It  furnishes  you  an  excuse  to  relieve  Lord  Russ- 
more  of  the  care  of  the  child.  (Accompanying  her 
toward  L.  I.  E)  Remember,  Sieur  d'Orsay.  (She  stops 
about  Left  C.) 

MARY  (on  her  way  to  L.  L  E.) :  Sieur  d'Orsay. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  And,  Mary.  (Mary  stops.)  If  my 
daughter  should  come  here,  be  sure  to  do  whatever  she 
asks  of  you. 

MARY:  Aye. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Sieur  d'Orsay. 

MARY  :  Sieur  d'Orsay.  (At  doorway)  Bless  me,  if  I  don't 
feel  as  it  were,  my  mistress  was  here  already!  (Brush 
ing  a  tear  away  with  the  reverse  of  her  hand,  she  exits 
L.  I.  E.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (who  has  mounted  up  stage  —  on  her  way 
toward  both  windows):  Now,  provided  my  little 
stratagem  works  out  till  the  end,  and  I  succeed  in  ex 
tricating  Milton  from  here,  (she  sets  the  curtains  of 
U.  R.  C.  and  U.  L.  C.  windows  far  apart)  —  for  the 
time  being,  —  the  situation  will  be  materially  changed. 
(As  she  opens  the  ventilator  and  puts  a  last  touch  to  the 
curtains)  This  way  I  can  gain  a  better  view  of  the  out 
side.  (She  comes  down  stage.) 
(Enter  Lord  Russmore  L.  I.  E.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Good  afternoon. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (to  his  encounter) :  Good  afternoon. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (as  he  shakes  her  hand  and  retains  it): 
Faithful  from  first  to  last  to  come  daily  and  cheer  us 
up.  (He  lets  go  her  hand.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Some  people  have  so  little  to  do,  my 
lord,  so  much  time  to  themselves,  that  'tis  no  great 
credit  if  they  devote  a  little  of  it  to  others. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (shaking  his  head  negatively,  as  he  steps 


152  SWORDS  DRAWN 

toward  the  arm-chair  Right  C.) :  Misrepresentations  of 
your  golden  acts  will  only  serve  to  lend  them  fresh 
lustre.  This  instance,  for  example.  (As  he  draws  the  chair 
a  little  up  stage  in  invitation  for  her  to  sit  down)  Lady 
Scarsdale,  I  thank  you  for  taking  the  trouble  to  bring 
my  little  son  a  new  toy.  A  very  ingenious  one.  I 
placed  it  in  his  hand. 

(Lady  Scarsdale  has  gone  to  the  arm-chair,  Lord  Russ- 
more  Xes  to  the  mantel,  remaining  standing  by  same.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (sitting  down):  How  is  the  darling  boy 
to-day? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  For  the  present  he  is  fast  asleep.  I 
sang  him  one  of  Alice's  songs.  He  was  accustomed  to 
hear  her  sing  it  before  retiring. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  This,  naturally,  soon  lulled  him  to 
sleep. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Yes.  (After  a  brief  pause)  I  have  been 
hoping  that  in  time  he  may  grow  to  miss  her  less ;  that 
is,  if  it  is  not  too  much  to  ask  of  you  —  to  come  here 
once  a  day  for  some  time  yet  —  to  help  me. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Oh,  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  so; 
until  four  days  ago,  you  would  not  yield  to  my  sugges 
tion  of  doing  this. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  I  could  not  comprehend  until  then  that 
your  perseverance  to  call  here  came  solely  from  your 
own  great  kindness  of  heart.  Pride  blinded  me. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Lastly  you  confided  your  misfortune 
to  me.  It  made  it  easier  for  me  to  help  you  bear  it. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Yes.  —  I  think  the  blow  was  so  great 
that  to  a  degree  it  made  me  numb  —  insensible,  as  it 
were,  to  kindness  as  well  as  to  any  additional  pain.  — 
At  first,  the  mental  anguish  nearly  drove  me  frantic! 
Now,  I'm  cold  and  collected:  one  part  of  me  is  dead  — 
that  part  of  me  where  my  heart  existed  .  .  .  The  love 


SWORDS   DRAWN  153 

that  I  bore  my  child  and  the  love  that  I  bore  her  only 
differed  in  sense,  but  each  filled  a  complete  heart  in  me. 
That  made  two  hearts  whose  every  throb  I*felt  with 
unspeakable  pride  and  joyousness.  Now,  of  the  two, 
only  one  remains:  the  other  died  and  changed  to  gall, 
instilling  murderous  thoughts  against  him  that  deprived 
me  of  its  life.  Constantly  before  me  is  the  spectacle  of 
their  infamy.  I  cannot  escape;  always  it  recurs  to  my 
mind;  to  blot  him  out  of  the  picture  I  must  perforce 
seize  this  thief  of  her  good  name ;  in  the  rest  I  shall  then 
aim  to  become  resigned  —  time  will  teach  me  —  per 
haps  —  who  knows.  .  .  . 

(He  remains  still  absorbed  in  thought.  Lady  Scarsdale  is 
the  first  to  break  the  scene  by  rising  and  slowly  Xing  left. 
He  becomes  conscious  of  her  movement,  and  also  comes  out 
of  his  meditation.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  You  are  confident  that  he  will  keep  his 
appointment  to  come  this  afternoon,  m'lord? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  I  have  no  reason  not  to  hope  so.  Un 
less  —  (He  looks  toward  the  windows.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Unless  they  are  together,  you  mean. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (reaching  the  windows,  he  draws  the  cur 
tains  together,  taking  some  precaution  to  keep  out  of  view 
from  the  outside) :  Pardon  me,  if  I  draw  the  curtains : 
some  passer-by  might  chance  to  espy  me.  Will  you  re 
main  to  take  tea? 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  No,  my  lord;  I  sent  Josephine  on  an 
errand  to  a  poor  woman  in  distress;  I  should  be  home 
when  she  returns.  By  the  way,  I  asked  Sieur  d'Orsay 
to  stop  here  and  escort  me  home  on  his  way;  I  hope 
you'll  not  deem  my  asking  him  to  call  here  a  liberty. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Not  in  the  least.  (He  strikes  the  steel 
hoop  on  the  writing-table.  Afterwards  he  sits  facing  same.) 
How  is  Sieur  d'Orsay?  I  have  not  seen  him  since  — 


154  SWORDS   DRAWN 

I  recollect;  —  (takes  up  pen)  we  spoke  to  each  other 
the  day  of  Lady  Russmore's  disappearance  —  no,  it 
was  the  following  morning  —  the  day  I  supposedly 
left  for  Chichester.  Pray  excuse  me  if  I  write.  We 
met  on  the  way  to  the  palace. 
(Enter  Fobs  Left  3  E.) 

Fobs,  despatch  Jacob  to  Quigsby  to  learn  if  ought  has 
occurred  —  wait  till  he  returns  and  bring  me  word. 

FOBS:  Yes,  m'lord. 

(Exit  Right  3.} 

LADY  SCABSDALE  (who  has  divined  the  truth,  but  has  mas 
tered  herself  quickly) :  Have  you  someone  out  there 
watching,  my  lord? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Several  men.  (He  resumes  his  writing, 
she  goes  to  the  window.) 

You  will  not  see  them;  they're  in  hiding.    I've  left 
nothing  to  chance  — 
(Standing  above  him,  Lady  Scarsdale  glares.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  But  how  will  you  know  the  culprit — if 
he's  nabbed  before  he  enters  the  house  and  asks  for —  ? 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Everyone  will  be  allowed  to  call  at  this 
house  unmolested,  but  none  to  depart  and  pass  without 
a  word  from  me. 

(Lady  Scarsdale  appears  somewhat  relieved.) 
On  the  other  hand,  anyone  seen  lurking  or  loitering 
about,  approaching  this  house  without  entering  it  in 
the  end,  will  be  stopped  and  afterwards  examined  by 
me.  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Indeed  you  could  not  have  taken  more 
thorough  precautions  —  I  hope  the  wretch  is  taken ! 
(The  last  line  is  said  as  she  comes  down  stage  and  a 
flicker  of  a  smile  comes  to  her  lips.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  He  will  be  if  he  comes  here!  (Having 
risen,  he  comes  to  her.)  Considering  that  you  and  Sieur 


SWORDS  DRAWN  155 

d'Orsay  will  be  leaving  together  —  't  were  well  to  pro 
vide  you  with  this  order  to  the  men  who  are  watching. 
(She  takes  the  permit.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Thank  you.  (Then  with  paper  in  hand, 
laughing  a  little)  To  be  frank,  I  was  about  to  demand 
a  dozen  such.  I  feel  so  timid.  So  glad  we  happened  to 
talk  about  it.  For,  imagine  Sieur  d'Orsay,  for  instance, 
seeing  anyone  barring  our  way,  or  being  rude  to  me: 
Goodness!  fancy  him  becoming  excited  and  pouring 
out  his  indignation  in  French  to  them  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  True,  that  should  have  produced  a 
crisis. 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (mounting  up  stage):  And  if  anything 
had  happened  to  him,  oh,  my  daughter  would  never 
have  forgiven  me.  —  (She  turns  front,  her  back  against 
the  front  of  the  writing  table.)  There!  ...  I  knew  I 
should  end  by  doing  it ! 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  What? 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  I've  committed  a  breach  of  confidence. 
I've  betrayed  her  secret. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Have  you?  (Tumbling)  Oh!  (He 
crosses  to  the  mantel  to  lower  down  the  cover  of  the  ivory 
casket  which  is  raised.)  I  thought  it  was  Mr.  Court- 
nay  who  was  in  favor. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Oh,  Robert  is  easily  accounted  for  — 
(She  suddenly  hears,  as  it  were,  voices  off  Left.  She  turns 
sharply  towards  Left  3,  and  while  Russmore  is  Xing  to 
the  mantel,  ascertaining  this  first,  she  Xes  to  Left  3,  E, 
continuing  to  speak)  —  he's  attracted  by  her  dowry. 
(She  parts  the  door  quickly  a  little  and  as  rapidly  with 
draws  and  seems  seized  with  great  agitation)  Lately  he's 
been  insanely  jealous  of  Sieur  d'Orsay. 
(Meanwhile  she  comes  further  down  stage,  speaking  and, 
at  the  same  time,  trying  to  think  out  how  to  meet  an  emer- 


156  SWORDS   DRAWN 

gency.  Lord  Russmore,  after  taking  up  the  casket  and 
glancing  inside  and  touching  the  contents,  places  it  back 
on  the  mantel.) 

Josephine  has  great  trouble  in  keeping  them  apart. 
(She  suddenly  gets  an  inspiration  and  approaches  Left 
I.)    I  think  I  hear  the  child  crying  — 
(Simultaneously  enters  Mary  Left  3  E.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (shifting  his  eyes  from  Lady  Scarsdale 
to  Mary) :  What  is  it,  Mary? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (as  Mary  looks  at  her) :  Is  it  someone  for 
me? 

MARY:  Sieur  d'Orsay  to  see  Lady  Scarsdale. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  'Tis  well.  Admit  him.  (To  Lady 
Scarsdale  while  Mary  departs)  Pray  receive  him  in  here, 
whilst  I  look  after  the  child.  (Saying  which  he  crosses 
to  Left  I.  E.)  You'll  remain  till  I  return?  —  Pray  do. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Certainly. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  As  soon  as  Fobs  is  here,  Mary  can  re 
lieve  me. 

(Lady  Scarsdale  nods  assentingly  —  Exit  Lord  Russ 
more  Left  I.  E.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (changing  manner  the  instant  Lord  Russ 
more  is  out):  Phew!  ...  I  nearly  lost  my  head,  he 
took  me  so  by  surprise!  (Said  on  way  to  Right  3  E.,  her 
eyes  turned  in  the  direction  of  Left  3  E.)  I  never  thought 
of  his  being  admitted  by  Mary  without  first  ringing ! 
(She  casts  a  quick  glance  off  Right  3  to  see  that  Fobs  is 
not  returning  and  closes  back  the  door.  As  she  starts 
toward  Left  3,  enters  Milton.  She  quickly  raises  her 
finger  to  her  lips  enjoining  him  silence,  crosses  him  and 
closes  the  door  —  Left  3.  They  turn  simultaneously, 
facing  each  other.} 

(Her  voice  subdued,  with  intensity  and  speaking  rapidly) 
Quick!  Give  me  the  paper  that  you  bring  Alice! 


SWORDS   DRAWN  157 

You're  in  the  lion's  lair !  With  spies  swarming  the  prem 
ises  —  outside!   Here's  a  pass  to  get  us  through! 

MILTON  (one  hand  inside  his  doublet,  taking  the  pass  with 
the  other) :  Where's  Alice? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Don't  ask  any  questions  —  but  give 
me  the  paper  —  there's  no  time !  Lord  Russmore  may 
step  into  the  room  any  moment! 
(She  steps  down  stage,  her  eyes  focused  on  Left  I.  E. 
He  follows  her  down,  taking  the  paper  out  from  inside  his 
coat.) 

MILTON  (above  her  right  shoulder) :  Then  he  is  not  in  Chi- 
chester? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (still  her  eyes  focused  on  Left  I.  E.): 
No;  he  doubled  back  on  his  steps  at  nightfall  the  day  he 
went  and  has  since  been  hiding  here!  (She  snatches 
the  paper  from  his  hand,  but  keeps  on  looking  at  Left  I.  E.) 
I  made  pretense  I  was  waiting  for  you  —  Sieur  d'Orsay 

—  to  escort  me  home  on  your  way.    Is  this  it?    (Mean 
ing  the  mandate.) 

MILTON:  Yes;  but  one  word  more  —  where  is  Alice? 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  Ran   away  rather   than  betray   you. 

Never  fear,  I  shall  be  here  to-night  to  present  this  paper. 
MILTON:  Then  Russmore  who,  the  next  day,  led  me  to 

believe  — 
LADY  SCARSDALE:  He  deceived  you  like  everyone  else. 

The  important  thing  is  that  we  get  away.    I  promised 

we  would  remain  till  he  returned.   He  knows  nothing 

—  so  resume  your  French.   When  we  leave  I  will  tell 
you  everything!    (She  takes  a  sudden  step  toward  the 
door  Left,   then   quickly   warning   Milton.)      Sh!  .  .  . 
(She  crosses  to  Right  C.,  and  sits  while  Milton  steps 
up  stage,  placing  Lord  Russmore's  order  to  pass  inside 
his  coat.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (heard  as  he  opens  the  door):  Here  we 


158  SWORDS   DRAWN 

are !  .  .  .     (He  enters  leading  the  child  in  front  of  him 

into  the  room)  Now  demonstrate  to  Lady  Scarsdale  how 

well  you  can  manipulate  it.    (Urging  the  child  forward, 

as  he  raises  his  head  and  perceives  Milton.) 
HENRY  (Xing  to  Lady  Scarsdale,  making  the  toy  wiggle)'. 

Loo!  .  .  .  (He  is  greatly  amused.} 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (genially  to  Milton):  Ah — Sieur  d'Orsay. 

Welcome ! 
MILTON  (effusively  pressing  his  hand):  T'ank  you,   mee 

Lord  Russmore! 

(Lady   Scarsdale  laughs,   chiming  in  with   the  child's 

amusement.) 
HENRY:  Mamma    blought    Henly    nice    playtling.    (He 

manipulates  it  afresh.) 
LADY  SCARSDALE  (fondly    taking    him    up    in    her    lap): 

Mamma  brought  him  nice  plaything  —  Just  listen  to 

him. 

HENRY  :  Loo' !    (He  manipulates  it  and  laughs.) 
MILTON  (Xing  to  them) :  An'  dis  eeze  your  leetle  son  — 

mee  lord? 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (remaining  where  he  stood):  Yes,  Sieur 

d'Orsay. 
MILTON  (fondly  placing  his  hand  upon  his  golden  head): 

A  nize  leetle  man. 

(Enters  Mary  quietly  Left  2  E.   She  comes  down  Left  of 

stage  slowly.) 

He  eeze  'ow  old,  mee  lord? 
HENRY  (quickly) :  Flive  years ! 

(Lady  Scarsdale  laughs  and  hugs  him.) 
MILTON:  Five?   H'n!h'n!h'n!  .  .  . 

(Lady  Scarsdale  first  catches  sight  of  Mary  and  releases 

the  child.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  What  is  it,  Mary? 
MARY:  Miss  Scarsdale  has  just  come  and  wishes  to  see 

your  ladyship. 


SWORDS   DRAWN  159 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (rising):  Certainly! 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Why  not  ask  her  to  come  in? 

MARY  :  She  would  not,  m'  lord,  as  she  has  been  riding  and  is 

covered  with  dust. 
LADY  SCARSDALE  :  The  poor  darling  must  be  tired  out !  — 

Will  you  excuse  me? 

(Lord  Russmore  nods  —  Milton  bows.) 

(Lady  Scarsdale  turns  at  door.) 

I  will  see  if  I  cannot  coax  her  to  come  in,  Sieur  d'Orsay. 
MILTON  :  Please  —  ah  yes !  .  .  . 

(Exit  Lady  Scarsdale  Left  3  E.) 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (to    Milton,    as    the    latter    approaches 

Henry  and  stands  back  of  him) :  Lady  Scarsdale  has  a 

very  big  heart,  Sieur  d'Orsay. 
MILTON  (his  hands  resting  each  side  of  the  child's  shoulders) : 

Trrue,  mee  lord  —  and  Miss,  her  daughter,  has  a  vary 

beautiful  soul!    (His  gaze  becomes  uplifted.) 

(Lord  Russmore  looks  at  him  and  cannot  help  smiling  at 

his  fervour.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Both  remarkable  women! 
HENRY:  Loo'  !    (He  pulls  the  strings  of  the  toy  violently, 

the  latter  goes  into  antics.) 
MILTON  :  Ah !  .  .  .  (He  sits  in  the  arm-chair  and  draws  the 

child  near  him)  —  a  f unnee  pantin ! 

(The  word  pronounced  as  it  is  in  French.) 
HENRY:  Mamma  blought  Henly  playthling. 
MILTON:  Yes?  —  ah-ha!  .  .  . 

(To  Lord  Russmore)   Pardon,  mee  lord  —  I'  ave  not 

ask  yet  'ow  eeze  Lady  Russmore? 

(Pardon  is  said  as  in  French.) 
LORD  RUSSMORE:  Quite  well,  thank  you.   She  is  away  at 

present. 

MILTON:  Oh,  I  am  sorree  —  (He  turns  his  attention  imme 
diately  to  the  child,  smiling  to  him.) 


160  SWORDS   DRAWN 

HENRY  (more  and  more  enthusiastic,  and  making  the  toy 
wriggle  frantically}:  Loo'!  Loo'!  .  .  .  (He  laughs  the 
while.) 

MILTON  (laughing) :  Yes  —  (He  lifts  him  up  on  his  knees) 
Come  an'  sect  'eere. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  You're  fond  of  children,  Sieur  d'Orsay? 

MILTON:  Ah  —  to  "distraction,"  mee  lord! 
("Distraction"  is  said  as  in  French.) 
I'ave  a  leetle  nephew,  mee  lord;  ze  same  age  as  your 
lee  tie  son. 

(To  Henry)  You  are  lak' my  leetle  nephew.  (Pointing 
out  with  his  finger  playfully)  ze  hair  —  ze  eyes  —  yes, 
nose  —  altogethare  lak  'im !  (He  gives  him  a  fond  play 
ful  hug)  I  love  'im  vary,  vary  much  —  often  I  would 
lak'  for  to  go  an'  play  wit'  'im,  but  I  cannot  —  al 
ways  I  mus'  go  a-way. 

HENRY:  Mamma  glone  away  too? 

MILTON  :  Mamma  mus'  miss  you  vary  much ! 

HENRY  :  Mamma  kliss  Henly  goo-bye  an'  say  Henly  mus' 
be  goo'  boy. 

MILTON:  Dat  eeze  Fright! 

HENRY:  An'  Henly  love  papa,  and  mamma  bling  Henly 
nice  play tling :  Loo' ! 

(He  shows  the  toy  without  working  it.  Lord  Russmore  has 
stood  by  the  while,  still  and  not  betraying  his  own  feelings.) 
(Enter  Lady  Scarsdale  —  Left  3  E.) 

MILTON  (as  Henry  shows  him  the  toy,  as  above  described) : 
Ah-ha!  .  .  . 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (as  she  opens  the  door  and  enters) :  They 
will  excuse  you,  dearie. 

JOSEPHINE  (still  off  stage,  entering) :  But  I  look  a  sight ! 
(Henry  is  first  to  turn  his  head  in  their  direction.  He 
slips  off  Milton's  lap  as  Josephine  enters.  Milton 
rises.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  161 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  They  all  know  that  you  rode  on  an 
errand  for  me. 

JOSEPHINE  (coming  down  first  to  Lord  Russmore) :  Good 
afternoon,  my  lord.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  safely  re 
turned  from  Chichester. 

HENRY  (running  to  her} :  Loo'  ! 

JOSEPHINE  (bending  the  knee  and  embracing  him):  Oh, 
you  darling! 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  My  daughter  hesitated  to  come  in, 
particularly  on  your  account,  Sieur  d'Orsay! 

JOSEPHINE  (rising):  Sh!  maman.  (Then  Xing  to  Sir 
Milton)  I  was  all  mussed  up  —  You  took  me  by  sur 
prise  —  I  did  not  expect  finding  you  here. 

MILTON  (taking  her  hand,  with  French  gallantry:  A  most 
happy  "rencontre,"  mademoiselle,  for  mee. 
("Rencontre"  said  as  in  French,) 

JOSEPHINE  (to  Lady  Scarsdale) :  Sir  Andrews  told  me  you 
were  here,  maman;  I  stopped  there  on  my  way. 
(To   Lord   Russmore)  The   whole   city  is  in   uproar. 
Everywhere  one  hears  the  rumor  that  His  Majesty  has 
fled  to  France. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  His  Majesty  — 

JOSEPHINE  :  Preceded  by  the  Queen  and  her  child. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Impossible. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  One  hears  so  many  rumors.  (She  looks 
significantly  at  Milton.) 

MILTON  :  Mon  Dieu  —  an'  'earing  so  manee,  one  eeze  slow 
to  believe! 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Depend  upon  it,  again  this  time,  'tis 
one  more  attempt  of  William  to  demoralize  the  people. 
The  trick  will  fail.  Besides,  I  should  have  been  one  of 
the  first  informed,  had  anything  happened. 

JOSEPHINE:  But  everyone  believes  you  still  in  Chi 
chester. 


162  SWORDS  DRAWN 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Sir  Andrews  knows  I  am  here. 

JOSEPHINE:  He  was  starting  out  to  discover  whence 
originated  the  rumor  when  I  left. 

MILTON:  I  'ave  a  rendez-vous  at  zee  palace  an'  I  weil  send 
you  full  "information,"  mee  lord. 
("Information"  said  as  in  French.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (taking  his  hand  offered  in  leave-taking} : 
Thank  you  —  Not  that  I  am  interested  in  such  con 
coctions,  —  but  more  curious  as  to  who  spread  the 
news. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Sieur  d'Orsay,  it  is  agreed  that  you 
shall  escort  my  daughter  home  instead  of  me.  I  have 
decided  to  remain  to  tea,  my  lord,  since  Josephine 
found  me  here. 

(Milton  approaches  Josephine.) 

(Josephine  whispers  to  Milton  to  give  her  Lord    Russ- 
more's  permit.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Thank  you. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  I  have  provided  my  daughter  with  the 
order  wrhich  you  gave  me.  (Josephine  has  it  in  her 
hand  by  this  time.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (to  Josephine) :  If  you  should  prefer, 
I  will  send  one  of  the  men  along  with  you.  (He 
catches  sight  of  Lady  Scarsdale  shaking  her  head  nega 
tively  at  him,  as  much  as  saying  "Don't,  They  wish  to 
be  alone." 

JOSEPHINE  (meanwhile):  This  will  suffice,  thank  you. 
LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Oh,   yes,   of  course  —  I   see  ...   (He 
goes,  smilingly  to  L.  I.  E.)    I  will  accompany  you  as  far 
as  the  door.) 

(Opening  L.   I.    E.,    and   turning   inquiringly)     Your 
horse  is  in  the  rear? 

JOSEPHINE:  Yes.    Au  revoir,  maman.    (She  passes  out.) 
LADY  SCARSDALE  (nodding  to  her  in  response  as  she  passes 


SWORDS   DRAWN  163 

out,  then,  addressing  Milton  who  is  Xing  toward  the 
exit) :  Au  revoir,  Sieur  d'Orsay. 

MILTON  (with  a  gallant  bow  at  door) :  Adieu  —  Madame. 

(Exit  Milton.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Won't  you  come  along? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (standing  by  Henry's  side):  Henry  and 
I  are  going  out  in  the  park,  my  lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Excuse  me  then.  (He  exits  L.  I.,  closing 
the  door.  Lady  Scarsdale  nods  to  him  as  he  exits.) 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (with  elation,  the  moment  he  is  gone): 
Heavens!  who  could  have  believed  it?  So  far,  my 
little  stratagem  has  succeeded!  Now,  provided  the 
news  which  Josephine  brings  is  confirmed  — (Picking 
the  child  up  in  her  arms)  Oh,  my  darling !  my  darling ! 
you  will  see  your  mother  again!  You  have  the  most 
plucky,  the  most  courageous  mother  that  ever  lived! 
(She  smothers  him  with  kisses,  walking  about  the  room, 
then  when  near  R.  I.  E.)  Come!  We'll  also  keep  watch 
in  the  park! 

(Exit  Lady  Scarsdale  quickly  R.  I.  E.  with  Henry  in  her 
arms.) 

(A  mere  second's  wait  and  Fobs  enters  rapidly,  followed 
by  MASTER  QUIGSBY  of  the  King's  soldiery.  They  enter 
Right  3,  E.,  Fobs  very  excited,  and  walking  rapidly, 
Quigsby  very  slowly  and  sluggish.  He's  very  warm  and 
exhausted.)  (Quigsby  is  extremely  portly,  a  pompous 
sort  of  an  individual,  arrogant  to  his  inferiors.  His  eyes 
fairly  bulge  out  of  his  fat,  round,  ruddy  face.  He  fans 
himself  with  his  hat  as  he  enters.) 

FOBS  (half  crossing  the  room  toward  Left  3  E.,  then  coming 
back  on  his  steps) :  But  one  moment,  Master  Quigsby  — 
his  lordship  is  hereabouts  —  (Stepping  down  to  the 
arm-chair,  he  drags  it  a  couple  of  feet  up  stage,  wheeling 
it  so  that  it  faces  Left.)  But  pray  be  seated !  (He  starts 


164  SWORDS   DRAWN 

off  again,  but  again  returns  on  his  steps.)  And  let  me 
take  your  hat.  (He  takes  it.}  Maybe  you  would  like  a 
cup  o'  wine  to  restore  ye  a  little? 

(The  more  flustered  and  polite  Fobs  appears,  the  more  at 
ease  and  patronizing  is  Quigsby.) 

QUIGSBY:  Thank  ye,  Master  Fobs,  but  oi  niver  imboibe 
whoilst  oi'm  purformin'  mee  duty! 

FOBS  (starting  off  with  Quigsby's  hat):  I  sometimes  do! 
It 'elps!  (He  turns  again.)  I  meant  no  offense. 

QUIGSBY  (clearing  his  throat,  coming  down  toward  the  chair) : 
Howiver  —  seein'  as  yur  so  keen  ("kane")  about  it, 
oi'll  accipt  afturr  oi've  seen  ("sane")  his  lor'ship. 
(Enter  Mary  Left  3,  E.,  as  Quigsby  is  about  to  sit.  He 
stands  up  again.) 

MARY:  What  is  it,  Fobs? 

FOBS  (going  U.  R.  and  placing  Quigsby's  hat  on  the  settee) : 
Where  is  his  lordship? 

MARY  :  In  the  rear  —  seeing  Miss  Scarsdale  off.  WThat's 
amiss? 

FOBS  (more  and  more  excited,  on  his  way  rapidly  toward 
Left  /.  E.)  The  knave  his  lordship  h'expected  to  call 
'as  been  caught !  (He  returns  a  few  steps  again  toward 
Center.)  H'excuse  me,  Master  Quigsby.  (He  turns  to 
Mary)  Mistress  Brown  —  this  is  Master  Quigsby  of 
the  King's  Soldiery.  (A  few  steps  away  and  a  few  steps 
back  again  toward  Quigsby.)  Mistress  Brown  will  en 
tertain  ye  whilst  I  inform  his  lordship.  (He  starts  off 
Left  I.,  returns  abruptly  again  at  door.)  H'excuse  me  — 

(He  exits  Left  I.) 

MARY:  And  have  you  truly  caught  him? 

QUIGSBY  (important,  with  a  lofty  air) :  Aye,  Mistress  — 
an'  as  ragin  a  miscreant  as  iver  bawled  out  oaths  and 
curses. 
(Enter  Lord  Russmore  Left  I.  E.,  followed  by  Fobs.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  165 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Well,  Quigsby.   You've  arrested  some 
one? 
QUIGSBY  (now  become  greatly  deferential):  Aye,  yur  lor'- 

ship. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  What  took  place?   Where  is  he? 
QUIGSBY:  Under  guard  insoide  the  deserted  meetin'  house 

thot  stands  near  the  road,  on  the  other  soide  of  yur 

lor 'ship's  park. 

FOBS  :  He  was  first  spied  upon  the  high  road,  m'  lord  — 
QUIGSBY  (finishing  the  sentence  begun  by  Fobs) :  Roidin' 

breakneck  our  way  —  at  about  — 
FOBS  (continuing  Quigsby' s  thought) :  —  Not  more  than  a 

quarter  of  an  hour  ago. 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (front  of  his  writing  table) :  Fobs  —  let 

Quigsby  tell  it  his  own  way. 
FOBS:  Yes,  —  m'lord. 
QUIGSBY:  He  halted  in  front  o'  the  meetin '-house  and 

aftur  lookin'  kirfully  about,  an'  there  bein'  no  one  in 

soight,  as  he  thought,  he  took  his  horse  back  o'  the 

house  and  hid  it  in  the  bushes. 
LORD  RUSSMORE:  What  happened  then? 
QUIGSBY:  Thin  he  started  off  on  foot  toward  this  house. 

(Front  door  bell  is  heard.) 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (to  Mary):  See  who  this  is! 

(To  Quigsby)  Proceed! 

(Exit  Mary  Left  3,  E.) 
QUIGSBY:  Reachin'  the  end  o'  the  wrall  on  the  road,  he 

peered  kirfully  round  it  —  siveral  toimes  at  the  house; 

each  toime  makin'  sure  thot  no  one  was  about. 

(Lord  Russmore  begins  to  pace  back  and  forth  up  stage.) 

Thin  he  turned  back  and,  cloimbin'  the  wall,  got  into 

the  park. 

(Lord  Russmore  stops  and  hears  Quigsby  out.) 

We  followed.   Behoind  the  house,  he  spoid  the  horse, 


166  SWORDS   DRAWN 

the  same  thot  a  young  loidy  rode  up  here  upon;  in  a 
twinklin'  he  was  leadin'  the  beast  away.  "The  scurvy 
thief  expicts  company,"  say  we  to  one  another — "else 
he  is  after  changin'  his  mount."  Howiver,  one  of  us 
slips  into  the  park  and  pretinds  to  be  wurkin'  - 
"Good  day,  yur  worship,"  says  our  man  to  him  as  he 
comes  by.  "Are  ye  one  of  the  household?"  he  asks. 
"Aye,"  says  our  man.  "Is  Lord  Russmore  at  home," 
he  asks  agin.  "Nay,  his  lor'ship's  in  Chichester. " 
"Thank  ye,"  says  he,  an'  he  flips  him  a  gold  coin. 
Here  'tis. 

(He  gives  it  to  Lord  Russmore  who  examines  it.) 
(Enters  Mary  simultaneously  Left  3.   Her  face  is  tadiant 
by  contrast  to  the  sombre  faces  in  the  scene.} 

MARY:  Sir  Andrews  to  see  you,  m'lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (without  turning}:  Ask  him  to  kindly 
walk  in.  (He  returns  the  coin  to  Quigsby.}  What  is  the 
prisoner's  name? 

QUIGSBY  :  He  refused  to  answer.  As  he  was  tyiri'  the  horse 
nixt  to  his  own,  we  surrounded  him.  Thin,  devancin' 
the  rist  oi  stood  behoind  him.  "Thou  thief!"  quote  I 
"explain  why  thou  lurkest  about  and  has  stolen 
this  horse."  "None  o'  thy  business,  blockhead!" 
says  he  —  "Thou  wilt  then  come  answer  to  him  whose 
business  'tis!"  says  I  —  "I  will  see  thee  in  hell  first!" 
says  he:  and  thereupon  he  discharges  his  pistol  full  at 
me. 

FOBS:  In  the  nick  o'  time  Jacob  threw  a  stump  at  him — it 
hit  his  arm  — 

QUIGSBY:  Aye,  and  was  it  Jacob  that  threw  the  stump? 

FOBS:  Aye.  An'  afterwards  brought  back  the  stolen 
horse. 

QUIGSBY:  Marry  —  there's  small  chance  of  missing  me  — 
an'  but  for  thot  stump  — 


SWORDS  DRAWN  167 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (impatiently,  ceasing  to  pace  the  floor): 

Finish  —  what  followed  then? 
QUIGBBY:  Thin  all  the  rist  of  us  came  out  o  hiding  a 

fell  on  him  to  a  man! 

In  sum,  you  arrested  him:' 


chance  blow  on  top  o'  his  head  dropt  »i 
He  loies  there  since  in  the  house  recoverm  his  sen 
Oi  thoght  best  to  inform  yur  lor'ship  moi: 
LORD  RUSSMORE:  Very  well!  . 

(He  simultaneously  sees  Sir  Andrews  entering  Left  3 
He  goes  to  him.   Mary,  a  second  later,  foil  ows  Sir  An- 


indication  to  believe  that  if  the  pnsoner  be  not  the 
arch  villain  himself,  at  least  he  is  connected  somehow, 
orts  in  conspiracy  with  him.  Fobs!  accompany  Mr. 

Quigsby. 

(Fobs  goes  quickly  for  Quigsby  s  hat.) 
See  to  it  that  your  prisoner  revives   Quigsby  !  Aft, 
wards  detain  him  and  bring  him  hither  - 
(Qwgsby  bows  and  follows  Fobs  out  Rights  EJ 
SIR  ANDREWS:  Do  you  ignore  who  the  prisoner  is,  my 

LORD'RUSSMORE:  So  far  he  has  not  divulged  his  identity; 

we'll  soon  find  it  out,  once  he's  brought  here! 
SIB  ANDREWS:  But  supposing  that  this  man  was  merely 

after  the  one  whom  you  expected.'' 

BD  CMOKE:  For  what  purpose  F   What's  h,s  reason? 


168  SWORDS   DRAWN 

No.  His  actions  alone  denote  he  only  sought  to  insure 
his  personal  safety.  He  was  caught  lurking,  his  move 
ments  smacking  of  suspicion!  My  good  Sir  Andrews, 
there  was  deeper  plotting  in  the  outrage  than  was  pos 
sible  for  us  to  conceive  at  first.  However,  we'll  soon 
get  at  the  root  of  this  entire  affair  now! 
SIR  ANDREWS  :  Aye,  and  so  you  shall  —  I  have  been  to 

Whitehall,  my  lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Oh  yes,  and  you  have  come  to  tell  me 
the  news?  Forgive  me,  this  deplorable  business  has 
so  preyed  upon  my  mind  of  late  —  Why,  I  have  not 
even  offered  you  a  chair. 

SIR  ANDREWS:  I  prefer  standing  —  thank  you.  (Taking 
Lord  Russmore's  hand  in  his)  You  have  been  very 
severely  tried  of  late,  my  lord. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Oh,  but  I  am  now  getting  on  passably 
well,  Sir  Andrews  —  and  with  Lady  Scarsdale's  good 
help.  But  pray  —  you  have  been  to  Whitehall,  you 
say  —  tell  me  how  fares  his  Majesty?  (Smiling 
bitterly)  'Twas  thought  I  had  too  much  influence  over 
him,  so  they  urged  an  apparent  estrangement  to  exist 
between  us.  Fancy  this!  But  nevertheless,  in  my  heart, 
I  feel  the  king  still  reposes  all  trust  in  me!  For  he 
knows  that  I  serve  him  unselfishly  —  unselfishly ! 
Sir  Andrews  —  and  even  to  the  extent  of  consenting 
for  his  policy's  welfare  to  be  publicly  dismissed  and 
sent  on  to  Chichester  —  There  was  the  test ! 
SIR  ANDREWS:  My  dear,  true,  loyal  friend.  Sit  down  and 

let  us  talk  matters  over. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Yes,  Sir  Andrews.  I  always  value  your 
advice.  (He  brings  a  chair  to  center  and  indicates  the 
arm-chair  to  his  friend)  And  once  my  wretched  house 
hold  affairs  are  more  settled,  you  and  I  will  go  together 
to  the  palace.  (Sits.)  How  is  His  Majesty? 


SWORDS  DRAWN  169 

SIR  ANDREWS:  That  is  one  of  the  subjects  I  came  here 
especially  to  speak  about.  (Leaning  forward  in  his 
chair  toward  Lord  Russmore)  His  Majesty  —  (Lastly 
taking  hold  of  Lord  Russmore' 's  hand)  Hugo,  my  dear 
staunch  friend  —  he  prepared  for  very  deplorable 
news  —  (His  voice  quivers  with  emotion,  born  of  feelings 
of  loyalty.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  His  Majesty  is  unwell? 

SIR  ANDREWS  :  Have  no  news  reached  you  as  to  what  has 
occurred? 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  None  except  those  that  you  have 
brought  me.  I've  held  no  other  communication  with 
the  outside  now  for  several  days.  I've  been  a  total 
recluse. 

SIR  ANDREWS  :  But  to-day  Miss  Scarsdale  told  you  — 
(Lord  Russmore  glares  at  his  friend  an  instant.  Sir 
Andrews'  head  droops,  tears  filling  his  eyes.  Lord 
Russmore  rises.  He  passes  his  hand  across  his  forehead 
and  slightly  reels,  gazing  at  the  stooping  figure  before 
him.) 

(Speaking  tremulously,  with  his  head  lowered,  after  a 
pause)  The  queen  and  her  child  fled  to  France  last 
night.  His  Majesty  followed  them  on  the  way  to 
exile  —  to-day. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (scarcely  audible) :  WTho  told  —  you? 

SIR  ANDREWS  :  The  Lord  Chamberlain  himself  — 

(Lord  Russmore  slowly  faces  the  portrait  of  the  King, 
Right  2,  and  gazes  a  long  time  at  it  with  emotion.  Sir 
Andrews  raises  his  head,  sees  him  and  also  rises.) 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  awhile,  addressing  the  portrait  of 
the  King) :  Oh  —  you  should  not  have  deserted  us  — 
Your  Majesty  — 

SIR  ANDREWS  (sadly  and  quietly):  His  enemies  were 
yours,  my  lord  —  they  forced  him  to  go  — 


170  SWORDS   DRAWN 

LORD  RUSSMORE   (slowly  turning,  squinting  his  eyes,  as 
the  truth  of  the  situation  dawns  upon  him):  I— see- 
profiting  of  the  time  when  I  was  no  longer  there 
by  _  (Gradually  becoming  more  and  more  animated.) 
Now  I  comprehend  their  full  motive  in  urging  the 
policy  of  a  seeming  estrangement.    In  inducing  me  to 
consent  to  being  dismissed  and  sent  on  to  Chichester  - 
God  Almighty!   (With  abandon  to  vehement  rage)  And  I 
believed  them!   Believed  that  it  would  win  back  to  His 
Majesty's  standards  scores  of  Dissenters  —  and  all  the 
time  they  were  mocking  me!   Me!  —  And  I  was  sot 
enough  to  believe!   Here  I've  stayed,  faithful  to  my 
pledge  not  to  appear  in  London  ere  to-day  —  whilst 
they,  meanwhile  —  By  the  God  above!   I  will  yet  foil 
their   damnable   tricks!   Drive  the  lie   back  at  their 
crafty  heads!   We'll  convene  the   Council  and  send 
couriers   after  who   will   bring   back   the   King!    (He 
starts  for  settee  U.  R.) 
SIR  ANDREWS:  T  is    too    late,    my    lord  —  already    the 

Council  has  seceded,  and  William  is  hailed  Ruler! 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (coming  down  with  his  hat,  cape,  sword 
and  belt,  which  he  deposits  upon  the  chair  Center) :  No 
matter!  !   All  will  yet  be  saved  when  His  Majesty's 
brought  back!    (He  starts  by  putting  on  his  sword  and 

belt.) 

SIR  ANDREWS:  My  lord,  the  city's  in  a  ferment, 
worth  your  life  than  to  attempt  to  do  this! 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  And  a  nation's  destiny  is  worth  any 
man's  life!  Think  you  the  rabble  intimidates  me?  A 
pack  of  weaklings!  Minions  —  every  one!  (Having 
buckled  his  sword  on,  he  picks  up  his  cape.)  We'll  pro 
ceed  first  to  Whitehall  —  you'll  accompany  me  - 

SIR  ANDREWS:  I  will  not  accompany  you,  my  lord. 
(Lord  Russmore,  in  the  act  of  tying  his  cape,  stops.) 


SWORDS   DRAWN  171 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  looking  at  his  friend  a  second  —  re 
suming  to  fasten  his  cape  on) :  Then  I  shall  go  alone ! 

SIR  ANDREWS  :  But  first  you  will  hear  me  —  then,  neither 
you  shall  go  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (after  taking  up  his  hat):  Why  not? 

SIR  ANDREWS:  Because  you  will  grant  the  uselessness  of 
your  project. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  How  so? 

SIR  ANDREWS:  You  will  not  be  able  to  convene  the  Council 
—  And  the  King  has  already  embarked  for  France: 
But  above  all,  you  have  not  the  right  to  go  and  sacri 
fice  your  life  —  to  immolate  yourself  —  when  your 
child  has  first  claim  to  your  protection  here! 
(Lord  Russmore  remains  stock  still,  listening.  Sir 
Andrews,  noting  that  speaking  of  his  child  has  had  the 
wanted  effect,  continues  immediately  to  speak.} 
Oh,  I  am  not  less  animated  by  sentiments  of  loyalty 
than  you  are  in  the  present  crisis,  my  courageous 
friend  —  but  I  concede  our  defeat :  The  last  page  of 
the  drama  is  written  —  a  new  era  has  begun;  your  little 
son  needs  you  now  more  than  ever.  He  has  a  sacred 
right  to  your  care  —  at  his  tender  age,  he  cannot 
speak  for  himself  —  so  your  old  friend  here  pleads  with 
you  in  his  behalf  —  And  I  say  to  you,  remain  here. 
Stand  by  him  ...  'T  is  God's  will  —  don't  risk  leav 
ing  him  alone  .  .  .  Fatherless.  .  .  . 
(Slowly  the  large  plumed  hat  in  Lord  Russmore's  hand 
slips  to  the  floor.) 

Bring  yourself,  if  you  can,  to  think  of  that  — 
(Lord  Russmore  sinks  down  to  the  chair  Center,  the  pic 
ture  of  discouragement.   He  should  sit  so  as  to  face  Left, 
and  a  trifle  up  stage.) 

(Sir  Andrews  quietly  goes  to  Right  I.  and  noiselessly  opens 
door.   Mary  appears    on    the    threshold.    Sir  Andrews 


172  SWORDS   DRAWN 

facing  up  stage,  Mary  facing  down  stage,  he  leans  his 
head  sideways  to  her  and  whispers  some  instructions.  She 
nods  affirmatively  and  quicldy  withdraws.  Sir  Andrews 
steps  up  to  the  mantel  and  observes  the  dejected  attitude 
of  his  friend.  Lord  Russmore  now  gradually  comes  out  of 
his  sad  meditations,  and,  rising,  he  slowly  walks  up  stage 
until  he  stands  below  his  table,  his  back  to  the  audience. 
He  unfastens  his  cape,  lays  it  on  the  table  and  then  starts 
to  unfasten  his  sword  belt.  Enter  Henry  Right  I.,  led  in 
by  Lady  Scarsdale.  Sir  Andrews  warningly  raises  his 
finger  to  his  lips.  He  steps  toward  the  child  and  takes  his 
hand,  leading  him  toward  his  father,  at  the  same  time 
bending  down  and  whispering  something  in  his  ear,  point 
ing  to  Lord  Russmore.  He  leaves  the  child  half  way  up 
and  takes  a  position  by  the  bookcase  Left  2.  Lady  Scars- 
dale  comes  a  tnfle  up  by  the  mantel  Right  2.) 

HENRY  (left  of  Russmore) :  Henly  wan'  tie  kiss  papa. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (leaving  his  sword  on  the  table  and  turning, 
lifting  Henry  into  his  arms):  Oh,  my  little  chap,  yes!  .  .  . 
(He  kisses  him)  And  papa  is  going  to  remain  to  stand 
by  his  little  son !  .  .  . 

LADY  SCARSDALE  (stepping  to  Right  C.)  Courage,  my  lord, 

—  I  have  heard  the  news. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (grimly  —  with  bitterness  —  coming  for 
ward):  H'n!  h'n!  h'n!  isn't  it  incredible?  Undone 
in  everything  that  I  held  precious  on  earth  —  except 
my  little  son  —  in  barely  eight  days'  time.  Fate  has 
been  very  harsh  to  you,  my  boy:  a  broken  home  and 
your  father's  ended  career  —  your  lot:  from  where  I 
must  begin  again  to  build  —  for  you. 

HENRY  (brightly) :  Henly  see  mamma  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Nay  —  mamma  will  nevermore  return ; 
mamma  has  deserted  us,  and  the  King  has  deserted  us 

—  so  you  and  I  wrill  ever  be  alone  — 


SWORDS  DRAWN  173 

SIR  ANDREWS  (coming  forward} :  My  lord,  if  you  recollect, 
when  you  yielded  to  my  entreaties  several  days  ago 
and  told  me  of  your  wife's  desertion,  I  maintained  a 
doubtful  attitude  as  to  whether  such  a  thing  were  even 
admissible  —  I  had  known  her  so  long  and  so  well  — 
Now,  I  must  confess  that  despite  the  proofs  which  you 
then  presented,  despite  them  all  I  have  right  along  and 
still  now  entertain  the  same  views :  that  you  have  been 
mistaken. 

(Sharply,  Lord  Russmore  stares  at  him  —  he  slowly  lets 
Henry  slip  down  to  the  ground.} 

You  and  I  were  to  have  been  arrested  this  night,  each 
in  our  respective  home,  and,  together,  with  every  mem 
ber  of  his  Majesty's  Council,  were  to  have  been  carried 
off  to  William's  camp.  (He  receives  the  mandate  from 
Lady  Scarsdale's  hand  and  hands  it  to  Lord  Russmore.} 
Here  is  a  mandate  from  William,  granting  you  im 
munity,  which  Lady  Russmore  was  to  present  to-night 
to  any  intruder,  under  the  guise  of  a  friend,  seeking  to 
arrest  you. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (to  Sir  Andrews):  But  how  come  you 
to  know  aught  of  this? 

SIR  ANDREWS:  I  will  proceed  in  order:  The  knave  whom 
Quigsby  has  caught  is  Robert  Courtnay  —  come  hither 
to  seize  the  person  whom  your  wife  expected  at  three 
o'clock  this  afternoon. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  I  still  do  not  follow  you. 

SIR  ANDREWS:  Lady  Russmore,  having  pledged  her 
word  to  safeguard  William's  plot  in  exchange  for  se 
curing  this  means  of  protecting  you,  ran  away  rather 
than  endanger  the  safety  of  this  messenger. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Lady  Scarsdale,  this  mandate  was  in 
your  hands.  Was  it  Alice  who  sent  it  you?  You  know 
where  she  is? 


174  SWORDS   DRAWN 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  My  dear  Hugo,  have  patience.  We 
have  all  been  plotting  for  your  sake. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  Sir  Andrews,  tell  me  —  do  you  know 
who  was  the  man  who  —  on  that  night  — 

SIR  ANDREWS:  Sieur  Raoul  d'Orsay,  my  lord. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  He  who  is  engaged  to  my  daughter. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (more  and  more  confused) :  Sieur  d'Or 
say?    (To  Lady  Scarsdale)  But  I  still  less  understand 
—  after  what  you  know  — 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Oh,  my  poor  Hugo  —  prepare  yourself 
for  joyful  news.  The  same  spoke  of  the  wheel  is  not 
always  nearest  the  ground  and,  unexpectedly,  at  times, 
through  a  sudden  rift  in  the  clouds,  the  sun  will  shine. 
In  compensation  for  all  your  trials,  great  happiness  is 
yours  once  more.  Alice  was  never  unfaithful  to  you, 
but,  her  heart,  full  of  love,  wras  equally  courageous  — 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Not  unfaithful? 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  Sieur  d'Orsay  is  not  really  Sieur 
d'Orsay. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  Who  then? 

SIR  ANDREWS:  Sir  Milton  Lantanay. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (failing  to  connect  the  name  for  the  mo 
ment):  Lantanay? 

LADY  SCARSDALE  :  Yes  —  your  wife's  brother. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (looking  at  her,  then  the  whole  truth  dawn 
ing  upon  him):  It  was  he?  —  then  —  I  see  —  I  see! 
—  Alice !  where  is  she? 

(Alice  appears  simultaneously  in  doorway  Right  I. 
Henry  sees  her  and  runs  from  Lady  Scarsdale's  side  to  his 
mother's  side.  Lord  Russmore  remains  rooted  to  where 
he  stands.} 

HENRY:  Mamma  —  mamma! 

(She  presses  the  child,  up  stage,  closely  to  her  side,  the 
while  not  removing  her  eyes  away  from  her  husband.} 


SWORDS   DRAWN  175 

ALICE  (smiling  serenely,  coming  to  him,  speaking  sweetly 

and  quietly) :  Hugo  — 
LORD  RUSSMORE  (at    arm's    length,    after    regarding    her 

awhile) :  My  wife !  —  I  dare  not  ask  you  for  forgiveness 

—  except  —  look !  —  I  took  good  care  of  him  —  and 
Lady  Scarsdale  came  every  day  and  helped  me. 

ALICE  :  Hugo  —  our  little  son  has  told  me  all  about  it. 

LORD  RUSSMORE  :  I've  been  cruelly  unjust  — 

ALICE:  Nay,  I  never  blamed  you. 

LORD  RUSSMORE:  You've  grown  so  pale,  I've  made  you 

suffer. 
ALICE:  If  so,  I  don't  remember  or  think  of  anything  now 

—  save  that  I'm  so  happy  I  could  shriek  it  aloud  — 
You  dear,  great,  big  blunt  Hugo.    If  you  had  not  loved 
me  as  you  did,  you  would  n't  have  been  half  as  indig 
nant.    But  wait!    (She  runs  to  Right  I.,  and  calls  off) 
Milton! 

LORD  RUSSMORE  (Xing  to  Sir  Andrews  and  warmly  taking 

his  hand) :  Sir  Andrews  —  we  have  been  friends  for 

many  years,  yet  I  have  never  recognized  you  were  one 

more  so  than  now,  after  what  you  have  done  for  me 

and  mine  this  day. 
ALICE  (as  Milton  and  Josephine  enter  Right  I.) :  Hugo  — 

this  is  Milton.   There  are  no  longer  two  sides  now  — 

you  should  meet  as  brothers. 

(Josephine   Xes   to   her   mother.   Henry  follows   Alice 

wherever  she  goes.} 
LORD  RUSSMORE   (taking    Milton  s    hand):    Sir    Milton, 

you  sought  to  save  my  life.   I  am  one  of  the  vanquished 

and  poor  to  repay  you  — 
MILTON:  My  lord,  to-morrow  Alice  will  be  able  to  ask 

William  anything  that  she  wishes  for  you — 

(Enter  Fobs  Right  3.) 
FOBS:  The  prisoner  is  here,  m'lord. 


176  SWORDS   DRAWN 

SIR  ANDREWS  (hastily) :  Tell  him  to  go  to  the  devil  — 
(Apologetically)  Pray  excuse  me. 

FOBS  (seeing  Alice  —  with  joyful  surprise) :  Your  lady 
ship! 

ALICE  (brightly) :  Keep  the  prisoner  waiting,  Fobs. 

JOSEPHINE:  We'll  have  him  exiled,  Alice,  unless  he  gives 
good  assurance  to  mend  his  ways. 

MILTON:  Lady  Scarsdale,  your  daugher  and  myself  can 
not  agree  to  determine  the  day  of  our  marriage.  We 
have  decided  to  compromise  and  leave  it  to  you. 

LADY  SCARSDALE:  When  do  you  think  it  should  properly 
take  place,  Alice? 

ALICE:  I  will  question  them  both  separately  and  make 
known  my  decision. 

MILTON  and  JOSEPHINE  (simultaneously):  When?  (They 
sharply  look  at  each  other  —  their  eagerness  makes  every 
one  laugh.) 

ALICE  :  To-morrow  — 

(To  Lord  Russmore)  To-day,  I  owe  myself  to  you,  — 
my  husband! 


^^^2^^^p      ^^w^^ 

SUVE  » -HowuND  Pttss 
271  Franklin  St. 


A     000  047  389     2 


